Herald's Arrival
by Tusken1602
Summary: "What would happen if Ko'le Seneschal woke up in the 'Another Realm' universe with Cieran Kean?" Another crossover story brought to you by Tusken1602 and Katkiller-V Read the Beacon's Effect series and Katkiller-V's Another Realm Series before reading.
1. Disclaimer

Disclaimer: If you have not read my "Beacon's Effect Series" or Katkiller-V's "Another Realm" series, this story will make NO SENSE.

"What would happen if Cieran Kean met Ko'le Seneschal?"

We asked this question before, and with the great fun we had with Warlord's Realm, Katkiller-V and I decided to tackle this question again, only THIS time, to turn the story around slightly: What if Ko'le woke up in Cieran Kean's Another Realm Universe?

So for the clarifications to post at the beginning:

1\. This is based solely in the AR-Universe. Kevin and the Ancient One do NOT feature into this story, and only the Matriarch's experiments have any in-game knowledge.

2\. This takes place in-between Mass Effect 2 and 3. Kean and Shepard have already parted ways.

3\. This is firmly alternate-universe, and should not be considered canon for either universes.

Here are some of the perspectives that we'll be seeing from (or at least the ones we have planned so far: there may be more!)

Scaled Perspective - Trena T'Laria

The Silver Blade - Cieran Kean

The Herald - Ko'le Seneschal

Legacy's Witness - Berra Olympie


	2. A Hanar and an Eclipse Walk into a Bar

**Scaled Perspective**

 **(Trena T'Laria)**

 **Location** : Eclipse Command Center, Nos Irrail, Illium

* * *

"Why the fuck am _I_ the one stuck doing this?" I growled, following my half-sister down the ostentatious halls.

Ithiri gave me a little smirk, "Oh don't be like that, Gears. Meeting with the former Hanar ambassador to the Council is an honor."

I scowled at her. "Like you fucking believe that. Where the fuck is Leska?"

She waved a hand, "She's off meeting with Yan, probably already on her back while that uptight bitch services her."

"So she's off getting fucked while we're stuck dealing with this?"

"While _you_ are stuck dealing with this." My half-sister corrected me, "If you'd actually use your brain for something besides picturing your bondmate naked, you'd have already figured this shit out."

My upper lipped pulled back from my teeth, but I couldn't exactly bring up a counter-argument. I already knew _why;_ I just didn't want to deal with this crap.

Jona wasn't about to lower herself to negotiating with a Council nation, even a minor power, not until they recognized her Confederation in return. That would normally have left the conversation for Leska, but she was off on Xentha 'liaising' with T'Ravt, which would have left it for one of the _Meshinvi..._ who were all on Cathia trying to hack together a more efficient government. In Jona's head, that left only a member of her blood as a possible option, and there was no fucking way she'd trust _Ithiri_ to handle it.

That left me as her oldest daughter on planet... important enough to not offend, with the added advantage that nothing I said to the jellyfish could actually be considered binding.

"Have fun." Ithiri grinned as we reached the waiting room, taking care to smack me on the ass as she left.

My retaliatory throw dispersed off of barriers that she had raised up the moment her back was turned, and I was left cursing irritably as I smacked the controls and stalked inside.

The Hanar was floating near the window, evidently looking out over the arctic ocean, not that I understood how the damn things could see. It was... dressed, for lack of a better bloody term, with expensive black silks draped over its body and wrapped around the top half of its tentacles, and it turned to bob agreeably in my direction as the door shut.

"Greetings." Light pulsed beneath the silk, the translator turning its voice into something deep and masculine. "Are you the appointed negotiator for the Eclipse Confederation?"

"Sort of." I replied, electing to remain standing, crossing my arms as I did. "Trena T'Laria, Executive Commander of the Silver Blades, Illium branch, daughter of Sederis, blah fucking blah. I'm here to listen to what you've got to say and relay it if it matters, assuming you're Rhysan."

"I am he." He bobbed up and down slightly. I must have blinked in surprise, because he continued, "I do not share my species' fascination with ambiguous personal pronouns, Miss T'Laria."

"Thank the goddess." I muttered. If nothing else that might make this conversation less headache-inducing. "What do you want?"

The Hanar was silent for a few breaths, then pulsed darkly. "I would have assumed an official message from the Illuminated Primacy would have been enough to warrant the attention of the Queen of the Eclipse Confederacy."

"She's busy." I replied flatly. "Get on with it."

If a Hanar had eyes to roll, I'm pretty sure Rhysan would have, but instead he simply floated a bit in my direction, a tentacle reaching into some kind of pocket hidden within his silks to produce something like an incense stick. "Would you mind terribly if I indulged?"

"Not if you don't care about me doing the same." I replied, already digging through my own pockets to find my pipe. A few moments later I had _chehala_ smoke filling my lungs while the Hanar seemed to be contentedly absorbing the crisp smoke trailing up from the stick it held beneath itself. It was an almost surreal sight, but whatever the shit did for the jelly it seemed to relax him much as my own leaves did me.

"So." I asked, finally taking a few steps to my left and dropping into a chair, speaking in between puffs on my pipe. "What brings one of your kind to Illium?"

Rhysan cocked his body slightly as if trying to make a judgment call on how much he should tell me. I apparently passed because he drifted over to the chair across from me and lowered itself into it. He didn't quite sit like a normal being, but gathered most of its tentacles beneath itself in a rough copy.

"I regret to inform you that a civil war has broken out on Kahje. The Illuminated Primacy is split in twain. I was dispatched to inquire about possible assistance from your parent and her Confederation."

I'd been entirely expecting the usual Hanar shit about their Enkindlers, maybe expectations that we turn over some of the Collector crap we'd salvaged... a fucking civil war hadn't been anywhere on my list. Some of the most reclusive aliens in the bloody galaxy at war, with _themselves?_ They'd long had a habit of bitching at everyone else for messing with Prothean crap but I'd never heard of any kind of internal schisms.

And it had to be a fucking serious religious brawl: these were the same idiots who had tried to stay neutral even when the Krogan were rampaging around.

"All right." I exhaled a plume of white, trying to not to sound as confused as I was, "What the fuck prompted that?"

"Strife arose between the Faithful and those who have forsaken the word of the Enkindlers." Vague, yet fucking unhelpful. "The Reborn Herald of the Enkindlers comes, as foretold by prophecy, and to hasten the return-"

"Skip the fucking sermon." I cut him off, "What does your Herald want? Weapons? Ships? Soldiers?"

"All of the above." The Hanar bobbed in another nod, flicking away the stub of its incense stick and fishing out another.

When he didn't elaborate even after lighting up again, I growled and stabbed my pipe in his direction. "Look, why the fuck should we help? We're kind of busy if you didn't notice, and your little nation is on the wrong side of the Council border. Why in Athame's bloody name should we care about one Hanar priest wanting to rule supreme?"

"Forgive me," Rhysan said, straightening in his own chair, "I did not make myself clear earlier: The Herald of the Enkindlers is _not_ among the Beloved. He is an Enkindler."

I blinked a few times. "What?"

"He was woken from stasis in the Prothean ruins of Therum, found by the Priests whom were allowed to investigate in the wake of the Geth attack upon that world." Rhysan continued, leaning forward, excitement bleeding into his voice for the first time in this conversation, the tell-tale enthusiasm of a zealot emerging. "He has arisen to lead the Beloved and our Illuminated Primacy to a great and glorious destiny."

"You have..." I spoke slowly, ignoring the laughable idea of the Hanar with any kind of great destiny in favor of the more important piece of information. "...an _actual_ Prothean?"

"A true Enkindler." He confirmed. "Who is in need of aid. The Beloved Faithful would of course, not expect the Eclipse to shed their blood out _charity._ In addition to economic and technological concessions, the Illuminated Primacy stands ready to give full diplomatic recognition to the Eclipse Confederacy, and the leadership of Jona Sederis as its Queen, or whatever title she settles upon in the upcoming times."

My back hit my chair as I leaned back, trying to process this tides-begotten shit. Officially the Hanar were the third oldest space faring race after the Asari and Salarians, though they claimed to be older than either. If they had ever actually cared about affairs beyond their borders, or beyond grabbing whatever Prothean tech they could wrap their grubby tentacles around, they could have probably become a major power. Athame's azure, a Council member even.

"You do fucking realize that the Council is going to lose their shit, right?" I asked, knowing I sounded incredulous but not giving a fuck. "They're going to kick out your ambassador and close your embassy."

"We have already withdrawn our staff and closed said embassy." He replied easily.

I could only blink. "What."

"My government has cut all ties to the Citadel, and is in the process of securing new safeguards for our future," Rhysan shrugged again, gesturing to the room around us. "As I said earlier, the Herald of the Enkindlers has come to lead my people to their glorious destiny; a destiny of which the Citadel Council has no part to play."

Athame's ass... looked like I was going to have to talk with Jona after all. Fucking complicated shit.

* * *

 **The Herald**

 **(Ko'le Seneschal)**

 **Location:** Starlight Station, In Orbit Above Kahje

* * *

I gazed over the planet sprawling below, wondering at the dichotomy of it. Here was a world that did not look to have changed since my last visit more than fifty millennia ago. Any yet... the rest of the galaxy seemed to have lost all semblance of sanity.

 **Hanar. Asari. Turians? How did these primitives come to rule this galaxy?**

 _ **The same way we did, Beast: on the backs of the dead civilization that came before them. As with the Inusannon, so with the Protheans: laying the foundation for the next cycle to rebuild.**_

Beast's snarl of rage was cut short by the sound of the door sighing open behind he and I opening. I turned to see a hanar float serenely into the room.

 **They were still swimming in the oceans below us in our cycle.**

 _ **Quiet.**_

"Hello, Tallaxis," I greeted as he drew closer, the Hanar was one of the few whose company I could tolerate with any degree of equanimity since they had awoken me from stasis. Which was why, I suspected, that he had been assigned as our personal yeoman.

"Herald," Tallaxis acknowledged with a short bow, glowing brightly in delight, probably unaccustomed to a non-hanar being able to distinguish between individuals. That I was his Herald likely only made it all the more flattering for him.

 **Fucking Primitives.**

 _ **I said**_ _ **quiet**_ _ **, Beast.**_

Ignorant of my mental conversation, Tallaxis reported. "We have heard back from the Fleet of Illumination. Admiral Oraka has declared for the Expectant, and is returning to First Land to link up with Admiral Zymandis and the Fleet of Hymns."

I let a breath slowly, waves of anger and disappointment washing over me. "That fleet's flagship is the _Hira_ , is it not?"

"Just so, Seneschal." The Hanar gave another floating bow, more of an up and down bob. "With Zymandis in command of the _Virago_ , that gives the Expectant both of the Illuminated Primacy's largest ships."

Beast let out a snarl through our throat, "All this time, and the Hanar only have two dreadnaughts and a few frigates?!"

Tallaxis seemed genuinely abashed at Beast's sneer, and merely rolled the front two tentacles in a Hanar shrug. "We are not a warlike people, Herald. We maintained enough vessels to protect our borders: no more, no less, though this one would prefer to describe them as more than 'a few frigates'."

"You are _cowards_ ," Beast spat, not caring about the exact numbers or types. "Content to watch the rest of the galaxy tear itself apart in chaos, feeling superior because you knew the Truth."

The Hanar seemed to shrink in on himself, his tentacles curling close against its body as it tilted itself down in shame. It still took an effort, but I wrested back control from Beast, turning back to the hanar.

"Forgive me, Tallaxis," I spoke as gently as I could, the effect somewhat ruined by Beast's anger that made my voice lower than it should have been. "That was… unjust."

"But not untrue, Herald," He replied evenly. "This one is one of many of the Beloved who feel we have been too... _hmm_ … _passive_ in our long and prosperous history. These Faithful welcome the Herald's Return, and are fully prepared to lay down their lives to execute his will and vision."

That was something, perhaps. "So what then, is the status of these… 'Faithful?'"

"We hold Starlight Station and the homeworld," Tallaxis stated evenly. "The Planetary Defense Ring is firmly in our control, as well, along with its attendant battle stations."

"And what are the capabilities of the Ring?"

Another hanar shrug was offered by Tallaxis. "The Illuminated Primacy successfully resisted an invasion attempt by an Imperial task force, during the Krogan Wars."

I could not contain Beast's scoff of derision. **"** That was _centuries ago_ , Hanar **."**

"The Defense Network has only continued to be _upgraded_ since that time," He continued, evidently undaunted. "We believe it to be more than sufficient to protect sacred Kahje against the Expectant."

Perhaps... perhaps not. "And how many ships do the Faithful current have under our control?"

Tallaxis darkened, but answered evenly. "We have eight vessels in the Garrison. Two heavy frigates, the _Enkindler's Hope_ and the _Enkindler's Vision_ , a destroyer, and five corvettes. Few in number, perhaps, but equipped with the technology of the Holy Enkindlers."

Which mattered far less than it would have if we were fighting the primitives elsewhere in the galaxy. The forces of Zymandis would hardly be any less well equipped, and would possess far more numbers. My yeoman continued on as I thought, his voice gaining a touch more confidence. "We may be able to gain the loyalty of two other Garrisons, perhaps trebling our forces."

"Even should that happen," I sighed, "You are indicating that Zymandis doesn't have the numbers to attack us here, and we do not have the ships to fight him or claim the outer colonies."

A low pulse of light came as he spoke. "That is… not an untrue analysis, Herald."

I could feel my hands tremble and my biotics were simmering as my fingers curled into fists, which was usually a sign that Beast was attempting to wrest back control. Probably to try and kill _something_. That usually placated him… for a little while, but we hardly needed to find a new yeoman already, and randomly slaying our followers would hardly endear us to even the most faithful of them.

"Any word from Rhysan on Ilium?" I asked, forcing my fingers to relax, pushing him back as far as I could. We needed intelligence, data, information. Anger could come later.

"None yet, Herald," Tallaxis answered apologetically.

There were several minutes of silence, mostly of me trying desperately to maintain logical strategy over pointless temper tantrums, despite Beast's protestations that mindless violence was precisely what would make us feel better.

"Zymandis will no doubt be making overtures to the Citadel Council," Tallaxis said finally, cautiously offering his opinion. "Especially since our own withdrawal and closing of our embassy there."

The Council: more primitive fools governing out of a trap, an action that was all the more inexcusable given that they _knew_ what the station was.

 **We should have just declared ourselves and forced them to obey.**

I fought the urge to sneer as I turned away from Tallaxis to regard Kahje once more. _**Yes, because they would have fallen into line so easily.**_

 **They would once we killed those who resisted!**

 _ **We lack an Empire beast! We have no friends, no reinforcements, no Avatars to fight beside us! We would be overwhelmed and slain!**_

Beast let out a frustrated snarl in response, almost sullenly slinking into the back of my mind. I could not hold any anger against him, he was what he was, but his complete inability to think beyond the immediate short-term was more than slightly frustrating. Primitives though they were, the so-called Council had more than enough raw numbers to massacre what meager forces I possessed.

The time of the new Empire would come, but that time was not now.

"You do not think that was wise," I stated more than questioned, turning to look over my shoulder. "You believe that we should have maintained an embassy."

"This one's beliefs matter very little compared with the Exalted Herald's…"

I let my breath escape in a hiss, which ended whatever flowery praise Tallaxis was about to heap upon me.

"This one believes that the currency of the Council is control," He started again, more confidently and without hesitation in his voice. "The withdrawal of Rhysan and our diplomatic staff sent a clear message to Hanar everywhere: that the Herald of the Enkindlers bows to no one. While true and proper, perhaps maintaining a small Embassy could have aided against Zymandis."

"You think Zymandis will be willing to grovel at the Council's feet in order to win Turian or Human support?" I asked. "That he may not have if we had maintained a limited embassy?"

Tallaxis glowed in a Hanar affirmative nod. "The Turians have long been suggesting the Beloved of the Enkindlers come to an arrangement with them similar to the Volus, and have been Zymandis may _just_ be desperate enough to sacrifice self-respect for military aid. The Humans may be interested... or perhaps not, they are difficult to predict."

Humanity. My people... and the Earth. I could not even remember the last time I had seen it, even from orbit.

 **When I was all we were.** Even Beast sounded quiet, subdued as he tried to find a memory only to fail.

 _ **We must go there at some point.**_

 **And be mocked as a fraud; or worse, a Monster.** Came the bitter reply.

I grimaced, not appreciating the moment of clear thinking from him. "What of the… 'Hegemony' the Batarians have assembled in the Prothean's absence? From what I've read and been told, there is little love lost between them and the Council as well, with the inclusion of the Alliance. The Avatar of Enlightenment had high hopes that the species would eventually become efficient soldiers."

"They are only just now concluding their own civil war, Exalted One," Tallaxis explained gently. "It is likely that they would have few ships or soldiers to spare beyond their own borders."

"Dispatch a message to Khar'shan regardless," I ordered, "See if they have any interest in strengthening the relationship between our two nations. Even minimal aid is superior to none; begin with offering weapons in exchange for trading ports and technology."

"Your will, Herald," Tallaxis bowed, "And on the same note, Elkoss Combine has accepted the contract to mass-produce the _Holy Guardian-_ class exo-suits. They expect the prototype shipment to be completed by the end of the month."

"Excellent," I replied, glad of some good news at last.

 **Is this what has come to pass? Turning** _ **fucking Hanar**_ **into warriors?**

 _ **When your sword breaks, Beast, you draw your dagger.**_

 **Don't quote Prothean proverbs at me,** _ **Seneschal**_ **. When** _ **our**_ **sword breaks, we bludgeon our foes to death with our fists.**

"And the… _other_ matter?" I asked.

Tallaxis flashed a series of hesitant shades. "There _is_ a small manufacturing firm on Kahje. It typically deals in customized weapons for drell. They are slightly limited in scale, however. It would be a simple matter to contract outside –"

"I will not allow this tech to be… _auctioned off_ at the highest bidder!" Beast snarled, causing Tallaxis to once again flinch and prostrate itself as best as the floating being could.

Inhaling sharply, I forced my body to relax, wishing once again for a solution to my mental problem. "The knowledge I possess secures the Faithful a distinct advantage over the Expectant, but only so long as we are the only ones with access to it. The production will be limited, until their manufacturing base is enlarged, true, but the Particle Rife blueprints will remain squarely in our, and _only_ our, control. _That_ is non-negotiable."

The last part was more for _Beast_ 's mollification than Tallaxis' edification. But it _did_ get me thinking…

"What of your…D _rell_ … assets?" I asked aloud, "These do not fall under the hierarchy of the Military Command."

"They do not, Herald," confirmed Tallaxis. "They are under the control and report directly to the High Witness of the Temple of the Enkindler's Memory."

I groaned, my hand coming up to rub my left temple. "Who has decided to stay _neutral_ in this conflict, if only because he and Zymandis apparently hate each other more than they hate me."

"The upper echelons of the priesthood of the Temple of the Enkindlers' Memory are still set against recognizing the Herald of the Enkindler's Return," He replied, pulsing apology.

"Because their whole authority revolves upon their being the only ones who can offer interpretations of the Enkindlers' Words," I mused, "Something which a _living_ Enkindler showing up would threaten."

"The Herald _does_ pose a direct threat to their authority," Tallaxis agreed, one of his front tentacles rolling into a fist. " _Hypocrites_ and _doddering_ fools, who would resist the fulfillment of the prophecies they have preached for so long."

"The Temple is below on the home-world, is it not?" I asked, the mental strain growing more and more painful as Beast insisted that it was past time for him to work out our frustration.

"It is," Tallaxis stated, pointing to the largest of the continents on the mostly-aquatic planet. "Overlooking the city of Reminiscence."

"Summon a shuttle," I sighed, yielding to Beast's plan and control, "The time of their inaction and ineptitude has come to an end. High Witness Korban must declare for the Faithful, and turn over control of the Intelligence Service to us."

"Or else…what follows?" Tallaxis asked, bringing up an Omni-Tool to relay the command, even as he fell in behind me.

Green biotics flared around my clenched fist as Beast purred, "Bloody constraint, and perhaps a re-imagining of the Order, and the office of High Witness."


	3. Meeting the Herald

**The Silver Blade**

 **Location** : SBS _Shokari,_ High Orbit above Kahje

* * *

"But why do _we_ have to go down there?" Voya growled, her hands planted firmly on her hips. Her glowing eyes were narrowed behind her helmet's visor, lending the extra bit of edge to her words. "I thought the contract was to get the useless one here and back safely."

I sighed as I pulled my own helmet on, the HUD flickering to life as it connected to my armor. "An ambassador warrants an honor guard, and it isn't as though a troop of Elder Sisters can go down there with her."

My lover didn't seem terribly mollified, only reluctantly offering me my heavy coat. "That explains the Line squad, not _us._ "

"Sederis." I provided, trusting that the name would reveal everything. From the muttered curses that came from her as I pulled the armored cloth on, hooking it into my armor's power supply, it was enough to help the wave hit her beach.

Jona had picked her 'ambassador' by dint of locating the youngest and least accomplished of her daughters, presenting it as a chance for the maiden to prove that she could be useful. Jona being Jona, she entirely expected the girl to fail in some way and had thusly given me instructions on what she wanted to know, and what the Eclipse was willing to offer. I couldn't exactly complain given the payment she was offering; two standard months of not having to pay tithes for operating and recruiting on Illium.

Not that I cared, but Ayle did, and she'd have my skinned alive for not doing a pathetically easy job for such pay.

"It's not like she's going to be in danger on a planet full of jellyfish, they wouldn't be so stupid as to piss Sederis off." Voya being Voya, she tried to argue out of it anyway. "And even if she _did_ get killed it isn't as if she'd care about losing a bastard."

I sighed again. "Voya..."

"Her mother was literally a whore Cieran." She growled. "A stupid one at that."

I crossed my arms to indicate my silent disapproval, and a reminder that my own parentage was less than ideal. Voya merely stared back at me for a few breaths, then quietly huffed and turned away, wordlessly accepting the point and submitting to the fact that we were going to do this.

It was around then that Berra Olympie entered the ship's small lounge, smiling and looking entirely unaware of what we'd just been discussing.

Voya hadn't been wrong: her mother was some nameless dancer, the entirety of her relationship with the Eclipse's Queen being a single evening's entertainment, and an indiscretion of titanic proportions. I never heard what happened to her, but I could imagine the fate of anyone appearing with an infant child and trying to manipulate Jona Sederis. Honestly the real stupidity had been the idea that she'd been _unique_ rather than merely the next in a long line of conquests left to crap out another child.

That fact that Jona allowed the child to live, and join the Eclipse in any capacity probably said something about the deeps of her mental state, I didn't care enough to try and tackle that problem today.

Olympie herself looked like a younger, more slender Leska, having inherited her father's sharp cheekbones and dangerous eyes, but somehow managed to entirely lack the raw presence that most members of the Sederis family held. Her outfit didn't help, the golden gown was entirely too ostentatious for her, and had obviously been crafted for someone with far less décolletage than she possessed.

She looked like what she was: a gawky hundred and forty-year-old trying far too hard to look older.

"Good morning." She gave us both a wide smile, "Are we ready to leave?"

Voya didn't reply, simply stepping past the perky Asari and stalking out of the room, heavy coat billowing a bit around her ankles. The maiden blinked, turning and watching her go before glancing back at me with a quizzical tilt to her head. "Is she all right?"

"She's fine." By her standards at least. "And remember it's evening on the surface. Come on."

I was moving before she could respond, leaving her to hustle along in my wake as my long legs easily caught up to Voya. Privately I entirely agreed with Voya in the terms of this being something that didn't concern us at all, and regardless of the pay and ease of the job, I'd have just as soon been back on Illium or Omega... but given the frigid relationship between the Eclipse and the rest of the galaxy, Sederis had needed _someone_ to escort the girl and I'd had the misfortune to be around to be conscripted.

That we were an, ostensibly, legally licensed corporation had gotten us this far.

Of course, given the 'ostensibly' part, plus the fact that several Justicars would have loved to drag me to Thessia, had meant that we'd needed to make a second deal to get this far into Council space.

Spectre Attia Severa glanced over from where she was leaning against the heavy shuttle when we entered the hangar, the heavily armored Turian pushing away from the vehicle and striding towards us.

"Kean. Your escort is inside already." Her mandibles twitched once as the three of us slowed to a stop. "You remember our deal?"

I snorted, "You have a very low opinion of my memory. Sure you don't want to come with?"

"Unlike present company, I don't enjoy the idea of starting a war." She replied. "Make sure your Eclipse behaves."

"I am not my father." Olympie tried to inject some anger into her tones, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her nerves. Not that I could blame her, she was average height for an Asari, meaning that the Turian woman absolutely towered over her, and as usual was carrying at least five guns openly on her sleek black armor.

"We are all our parents girl, and the spirits who came before." The Spectre shook her head, getting back into motion, pushing past the three of us to head out of the hangar. "I'll be waiting on the bridge."

While Voya headed for the shuttle, Olympie blinked a few times and caught my arm, "What the fuck was that supposed to mean?"

"Turians." I replied with a shrug, having no idea either. "Come on."

She followed to pile into the vehicle, finding ten men and women in heavy armor already in their crash-seats and patiently waiting to get this over with. A quick call to the pilot got the heavy hatch shut behind us, and I was settling into place next to Voya up front when the engines thrummed fully to life. The Eclipse woman managed to get into the chair on my left before we really got into motion, buckling herself in and entirely scrunching her dress in the process.

I let the relaxed silence endure for a few minutes, until the slight shudders announced that we were entering the planet's turbulent atmosphere. "All right, everyone remember the job. We're here to escort Olympie to and from her meeting, not to pick fights with the Hanar... no matter how bloody crazy they are."

There was a chorus of chuckles and snorts before the squad leader, a Turian named Volern, bearing a half-dozen battle honors on his navy and silver armor, spoke up, "We understand Director, no firing unless fired upon, ignore any preaching from the locals. The maiden is the VIP if we have to extract."

Quiet fell as the shuttle began to buck a bit more, probably powering its way through a storm cell of some kind. The young Asari beside me clutched at her support straps as it grew worse, as did one or two of the soldiers, though thankfully no one had any physical reactions before the flight smoothed out five or ten minutes later.

" _Coming in for a landing."_ The pilot's voice came across the comms, " _Welcoming committee is present."_

"Confirmed." I replied, "Get us down so we can get this crap over with."

"Agreed..." Voya growled quietly, "Sooner we get this waste of time done with the better."

Olympie stirred on my other side, "My father wouldn't have sent me if she didn't think it was important."

There was a snort, "If it was important it would be Leska's ass in that chair."

Blue lips pressed together at the snub, but she was evidently enough of a realist to not deny it. "She thinks there's an opportunity, but she doesn't believe that they found a real Prothean."

"Hard to blame her." I replied. There was only one surviving Prothean that I knew of, and the first thing that Sederis and I had done on hearing the news was check with Aethyta about Eden Prime. A confirmation that the excavation there was still underway, and that Javik hadn't been found, had left us rather unimpressed with the Hanar's claims. "Attal, you're up."

"Right." Volern gave a whistling grunt, rising to his feet and drawing his heavy carbine. "Weapons at rest. First team up front, second team behind the Director, form up left and right once we're all out."

The usual sound of men and women moving around in heavy armor promptly filled the shuttle, metal and ceramics creaking and clattering as weapons were drawn and checked, boots hitting the decking as they maneuvered around and got ready. A short while later the hatch was swinging open, revealing a cloudy sky and a massive structure protruding from the ocean.

Half the squad promptly piled out, then clicked their comms to indicate it was safe to follow. Loosening my oversized pistol in its holster, I motioned for Olympie to trail behind Voya and I as we headed outside.

A single Hanar was waiting silently, floating near the doorway connecting the shuttle-pad to the building proper. I waited until the two fire-teams had formed up on either side before advancing, noting with approval the fact that our pilot was keeping the shuttle's engines hot behind. He would be getting a bonus after this, intelligent subordinates were always appreciated.

Our evident welcome committee began to flash as we approached, the translator wrapped around it belting out a deep, almost echoing voice. "This one, known to outsiders as Korban, welcomes you to Kahje, travelers."

Grunting, I took a half step to the left, Olympie taking her cue and moving to the front. "I am Berra Olympie, representative of the Eclipse Confederation. This is Director Cieran Kean, here to assist and to represent the other Terminus interests."

The Hanar seemed to bob agreeably in the air, splaying its tentacle out to make it seem as if it was bowing. "The light of the Enkindlers illuminates your path. I must ask you to surrender your weapons before entering the Holy of Holies. Violence is forbidden here, and your escort is unnecessary."

I stared at him through my helmet, and crossed my arms pointedly. For her part, Olympie lifted her nose up a bit as if she had just smelled something unpleasant. "Excuse me?"

"All must surrender their weapons but for the holy guardians." Korban repeated. "Or else you will be denied entry."

"Then this summons was a waste of time." I'd give the girl her due, she could channel her eldest sister's icy disapproval fairly well. "The Director goes armed in the presence of my father, he will not surrender his weapon before anyone lesser, and our guards will follow to remain outside of the conference room. If such a minor concession is too much we will happily return to Illium, and the next time your _Herald_ can come to us."

The Hanar seemed to stare at us, tentacles curling in something like anger beneath it before sullen words came out. "The Director and his mate will leave their grenades with your guards."

Olympie glanced at me, and when I twitched my head in a nod she exhaled, "Agreed."

It wasn't until Voya and I had turned over our technical launchers and the various traditional grenades to our escort that Korban opened the massive door, guiding us inside. Behind us Attal formed his squad up into double-column, marching in good order behind us as we moved into the Temple. Our guide floated along at a respectable enough pace, leading us through an entry hall and on through a nearby hallway. Thanks to the windows and the transparent floor, we could see a peaceful ocean in stark contrast to the frothing waves above.

"So," Berra asked after we'd been moving for a minute or two, her tones those of someone attempting to defuse tension. "Where is this Herald?"

Korban flashed brightly, its bio-luminescence lighting the dimly-lit path as we walked and he floated. "The great and noble Herald of the Enkindlers is in the Inner Sanctum. This one must warn you, however, the Herald is… not like others you may have encountered."

Voya stirred, "Criticizing your own god?"

"The Herald is great and powerful," He replied tactfully, "But he is also wounded: to see the fall of the Enkindlers was… not a harmless process."

I grunted quietly. "Fair enough. Anything in specific we should watch out for?"

"He has had a tendency to Meld with those who enter the Inner Sanctum. It was apparently the Enkindlers', and therefore his, preferred form of communication."

"I see." I exhaled, resisting the urge to make an impolite sound as I remembered Javik just having to touch things to 'read' them. "We won't approach him then."

Our guide, assuming I wasn't imagining it, seemed to flinch and hesitate. "Physical proximity is not required for the Herald's abilities."

Everyone slowed to a stop more or less instantly, Olympie blinked as she stared at the Hanar. "What?"

"He has been recorded at melding with an individual at a distance of over forty meters." Korban explained, his flashes coming almost in a rush. "So long as they are within his line of sight, they may Join with him on the Thought-Plain."

There was a low, angry sound from the Quarian in our party. "If he tries it, we'll kill him. Make sure he knows that."

"As amusing as this one would find your futile efforts to harm the Herald, I cannot recommend that you try." Our guide sounded as if it was smiling. "But this one stated the warning only as a warning. The Herald has been informed of the unsettling nature of this communication method to those outside of the Faithful, but he is… not used to the customs of this time. It is possible, though unlikely, that he may touch your minds."

That didn't reassure any of us, but Olympie grimaced and got moving when Korban resumed floating forwards. A few more questions quickly lead to the Hanar beginning to babble non-stop about his living god, entirely not answering the maiden's questions about any other abilities that he might have in favor of extrapolating on his 'moral strength'.

Five minutes or so into the deluge, and as we approached an ostentatious door that had to be our destination, Voya managed to interrupted, "How long was he in stasis?"

He practically bounced, as though excited that she'd been paying attention. "Near as our archeological teams can determine, nearly fifty-one thousand years."

She made a quiet, mewling sound. "A few centuries before the final end then? _Keelah_ , that would explain..."

The Hanar turned to give what I'm sure was the closest his species could get to a glare, though I thought the irritated elbow I gave her affected her choice of words more.

"...things." She finished almost lamely. "Are you going to warn him about not melding with us?"

"The Herald does as the Herald wishes," He responded in an offended tone, "He is the Voice of the Enkindlers, the Mouthpiece of their Return…"

"We get it." I snapped, wishing I didn't have my helmet on so that I could rub at my temples. "Athames ass, just... _ask_ him not to."

"...Very well, this one will communicate your request and announce your arrival." The definitely-insulted jellyfish floated away as huffily as it could, opening a grand set of doors just enough to squeeze through before letting them clang shut behind it.

"Cie..." Voya growled quietly. "I _will_ kill that thing if he melds with me. Or you."

My right hand rose as a heavy sigh escaped me. "He won't enjoy melding with me. If you want to stay out here, you can."

Her weight shifted a little, "... _Keshin,_ you know I won't let you do this alone. Fine. You, maiden, you know how to dissemble? Last thing we need is to reveal how much any of us know."

Olympie exhaled, "Matriarch T'Laria taught me personally. I can handle it."

I grunted quietly in approval. Actively trying to fight off someone melding with you was damned near impossible, and typically left you with a bruised psyche and Floating Mind for your troubles. It all had to do with the relative mental 'power', for lack of a better word, of the minds in question. Asari, and who knew about Protheans, found it trivially easy to shatter any attempt to just keep them out. The rest of our brains just weren't wired properly for that kind of defense, having not evolved to be able to manage things like even their limited telepathy.

We could, however, make it take time. Most non-sexual melds were shallow, and only picked up surface thoughts and memories, it took effort and concentration to reach deeper. Avoiding a casual scan was a matter of letting your mind remain blank, focusing on nothing but the now. Avoiding deep melds... was more of a matter of killing the Asari before they could try. At the end of the day inconveniencing them was about the best a non-Asari could manage.

Asari, in contrast, _could_ keep others out, or make it an exceedingly unpleasant visit, though both fell into the darker areas of meld-theory. The kind of crap that Trena's extended family specialized in.

"I still don't see the point." Voya muttered. "So the locals are divided about following an unfrozen Prothean, good for fucking them. We have our own issues to handle."

"It isn't as though any of us are staying." Olympie murmured, quick to get on our good side. "We speak to him, find out what he wants, then we go back to Illium and report to my father. What follows will be for others."

I nodded slightly, then we all turned back to to the heavy door as it cracked open once again. I thought that Korban had returned, but when the Hanar began to pulse with color its translator gave the words a distinctly feminine curl. "The Exalted Herald of the Enkindler's Return will receive you now, Ambassadors of the Terminus."

A gesture saw our guards fall out, taking up positions against the walls to wait for us to return, or signal that they needed to storm in. The door opened further at a gesture from the new Hanar, letting the three of us enter a dimly lit room. My helmet's HUD updated automatically, giving me a good view of a large chamber with scattered furniture... along with two patches of darkness that didn't become clear even when the system cycled through several vision modes.

Olympie sucked in a breath, her lips barely moving. "Behind us... not far."

Glancing at my rear camera, I saw nothing but the closing doors. Cloaked then, probably guards.

"You were to leave your weapons _outside..."_ A deep, male voice echoed in the chamber, speaking in rough but passable Thessian.

"And you," Olympie responded, again drawing herself up and injecting a bit of scorn to her voice, though she pointedly remained where Voya and I covered both of her sides, and I didn't miss the slight shake to her hands when she slid them within her dress. "Are supposed to be a polite host instead of playing games with lighting and tricks of your voice."

"Asari..." The voice, probably the Herald, answered with something like smug contempt. "So, more primitives make their appearance. Your kind was still living in reed huts during my cycle... Berra Olympie."

The Eclipse diplomat made a hissing sound, hands tightening into fists as her eyes abruptly flooded to black. A surprised sound hinted at a weakness to the Herald's broadcast of his voice, it let us hear him take a step back as the maiden ejected him from her mind.

" _That,_ " She growled, sounding far more like a member of her family now that she was pissed, "Was goddess-damned rude."

A scoffing sound rebounded off of the walls, the man recovering quickly. "At least you're capable of proper language now. And what is this... A Quarian?"

In response, Voya flicked her left hand, her body vanishing from sight as her own cloak hid her from view.

"I can still sense you, primitive... although..." He sounded almost contemplative, "Someone has taught you clarity of mind, though your anger still seeps through. Do you like my room? Your kind once hid from the light, scampering back to your valleys and crags when the dawn's light began to creep over the horizon."

"This is getting old and we've been here for a minute." I shook my head, my patience expended. "If you are just going to waste our time with petty insults we will depart."

There was a long, almost contemplative pause. "You... what are you?"

"Annoyed." I replied flatly. "Your next sentence had best convince us to remain."

Another long silence followed, and when he spoke again there was keen interest in his voice, along with something... almost desperate. "You're... human?"

The meld came with subtlety of a dreadnought round... though it wasn't anything like the melds I had shared with Ghai or Illyan. Rather than a connection, a true meld, it felt more like someone shouting in my ear while foreign emotions and a crazed slide-show ran through my skull. I could see cavemen, hunters, stalking a mammoth across a valley, the same bowing before a Beacon, a red armored figure looming behind them, the sight of a massive ship descending to land nearby...

I was getting his memories, his thoughts, his haste in trying to link our minds letting his own mental crap bleed across.

 _Human... you're human, tell me that you-_

Snarling in raw fury, I focused my own mind... and reached for the shattered memories that were all that was left of who I had been before the Matriarch's process.

Pain immediately slammed into my skull as I heard the man let out what had to have been a vicious oath in the Prothean tongue, the meld breaking violently as he reacted much as Ghai had done those few times we'd accidentally found those memories during our sessions. The migraine didn't fade in the slightest, and I fell hard to my left knee as I sucked in a deep breath.

After that, things... devolved.

Olympie grabbed at my shoulder, her attempt to ask what was wrong broken by the sound of physical violence, my head snapping up in time to see a golden-armored form rolling hard into view, Voya's cloak failing as she emerged from the unnatural patch of darkness after him. The evident Prothean was still disoriented from the sudden end to the meld, but the cloaked guards behind us weren't.

Two were Hanar, omni-panels flaring to life around their torsos to serve as armor, both holding four Acolyte pistols each. All eight were pointed firmly at the Asari and I, keeping us covered while the other pair of guards went to protect their Herald.

Both were Drell, wearing sleek armor with faceless masks, blue light flickering around their bodies as they flash-stepped past us to take positions between Voya and the Prothean, forcing my lover to stutter-step aside and away from a biotic strike.

"Halt!" The bellow from the Herald saw all four guards freeze in place, Voya taking the opportunity to back up several paces until she was in the same concealing darkness that he'd been hiding within not moments prior.

I managed to catch my breath and stand, noting that Olympie's other hand held a hold-out pistol in a tight grip as she assisted me as best she could. "Right. We're done."

"Krosis... Forgive me." The Herald shook himself and stood as well, his voice addressing me despite the fact that his helmet remained firmly locked onto where I presumed Voya was lurking. "In my eagerness, I forget how _krent_ …what is the word...hmm, 'primitive'… communication is in this cycle. Your weapons are unnecessary, I assure you. The Mind-Share will not be repeated."

I took a few deep breaths to control my temper, which was well and fully fucking roused by that point. I managed to not draw my weapon, but I wasn't any more determined to remain than I had been minute prior.

"We're done." I repeated flatly, "Voya."

"Wait." The Prothean held a hand up, either to hold his guards or ask me to wait while Voya emerged, cautiously moving around the group to rejoin Olympie and I. "The mind-share will not be repeated. It was a mistake."

"And it cost you." I replied, not in the mood for apologies or excuses.

There was another heavy breath, likely covering a muttered curse, before the Prothean's helmet began to slide and fold down and back to reveal the Herald's features. I expected the usual, slightly awkward four-eyed Prothean... instead I got pale skin and blocky features to go with dreadlocked hair.

He was human... or something almost human. Same overall build and features, but the proportions were awkward enough to guess that he hailed from a separate species. The forehead was tall and flat, lips were full and broad, and his cheekbones made my own sharp edges look positively smooth. Frowning, I flicked my eyes up and down, trying to decide if it was just his armor or if he was just naturally stocky.

Neanderthal maybe, or one of the other sub-species that had died off between the Prothean's time and our own.

"We share the same planet of origin, Cieran Kean," The Herald said, his arms held wide in a non-threatening manner. "That makes us, in a very roundabout way, as close to kin as I will find in this cycle."

I snorted derisively, pointedly not removing my own helm and starting to turn away, "Your actual species means nothing to me. Olympie?"

The maiden hesitated, which set off my mental alarms even before she grimaced and stepped close to me, her voice lowered to a whisper. "I know it was rude Director, but... we haven't really learned anything yet."

I stared at her through my visor, not liking that answer at all... but as I forced myself to think past the simmering ocean of anger in my chest, I couldn't find myself blaming her. This was likely her first real attempt to prove her worth to Sederis, to the Eclipse as a whole, and if she came away with nothing it would probably be a few decades before she got another attempt.

"We accept your apology." She spoke when I crossed my arms, turning slightly to glare down the guards. Voya huffed in extreme displeasure, pointedly not holstering her pistol or sheathing the blade she'd drawn with her free hand.

Neither the maiden's words or Voya's pointed readiness did much to mollify the holy guardians, who made no indication of lowering _their_ weapons either.

"Leave us." The Herald ordered. Both of the Drell immediately bowed and both Hanar flashed as they prostrated themselves as best they could, the four departing through a concealed doorway along the east wall.

Once the guards were gone, he resumed speaking, "I am Ko'le, Seneschal of the Prothean Empire, and in this cycle, Herald of the Enkindlers... I bid you and your Silver Blades _medrantai;_ Welcome."

"And you are Prothean?" Olympie asked, glancing up and down his form. "You'll forgive us if we are skeptical. Your... odd ability to meld notwithstanding, you look only little different from a modern Human."

His only response was a shrug, "That is your right."

She blinked, clearly having anticipated some kind of explanation as to just what the fuck he was. "What?"

The Herald, Ko'le evidently, chuckled quietly and moved to one side, settling his armored bulk into one of the nearby chairs. "You either believe me, or you don't. I don't _need_ you to believe I am who I claim, any more than I _need_ you to believe that Kahje's suns will both rise tomorrow. Your belief has no bearing on what is true and what is not."

Athame's ass... this conversation was going to be as thrilling as talking with our guide had been.

"Feel free to make sense any time now." I interjected myself into the conversation, "Otherwise I would just as soon leave and end this waste of time."

Olympie licked her lips, "Why did you wish to negotiate with us, rather than perhaps with the Council?"

In response the man flicked an arm out to one side, activating an image upon the table. The red wireframe of a Reaper was about a meter tall, with icons and text pointing out various weapons and potential weak-points.

"Sovereign." I read the name.

"It is _Nazara._ " The probable-Neanderthal snarled, anger abruptly infusing his voice as a fist slammed into his arm-chair. "The vanguard, the first of thousands. It is no mere ship, its a _living_ , _sentient_ A.I., capable of wreaking devastation and ruin of mythic proportions upon any given planet. And there are _millions_ of his brothers and sisters that wait in Dark Space, awaiting his signal for their return."

We stared at him for a few moments, then Voya made as scoffing noise. "What's your point?"

Of all the possible responses, that evidently hadn't been on his mental list. "...what?"

"I mean," She growled, taking a step forwards, finally putting her weapons away so that she could wave a dismissive hand. "This is not news, we know about the Reapers, we've known about them for several years. So does the Council."

"They... know? You know?" He shook his head, looking openly confused. "How?"

"Irrelevant." I replied, not about to get into that conversation with a cave-man wearing Prothean armor. "Why do you think we went after the Geth and Collectors? Why do you think the Hierarchy stopped pushing for war against the Terminus?"

Ko'le cocked his head a little, then frowned and settled back into his chair. "Evidently I must have words with my sources of intelligence. They believed the galaxy ignorant... yet even if you are not, your preparations remain paltry, pathetic. The glorious navy of the Prothean Empire would hardly notice your primitive fleets."

Olympie pursed her lips, then gamely tried to steer the conversation back towards why we were here, "What do you desire from the Terminus?"

There was a deep inhalation, his head shaking slightly as if we had just returned to a script that he knew. "A war is coming, a war on a scale that you do not comprehend. We must all prepare every aspect of our civilization, just as my people did, just as I know prepare the Faithful amongst the Hanar. Your petty warlords desire recognition for their tiny pirate nations" An armored hand rose and slapped forcefully against his chest. "I can provide that, as well as a place to trade, and an ally against those fools governing from the trap that is the Citadel. In return, I need weapons, ships, soldiers, and supplies with to end this useless civil war as rapidly as possible."

I considered him, studied him. "And then what?"

"And then we will prepare for the real war as I said." He all but growled, "I will do everything in my power to guide those wise enough to learn from me, but I will not come crawling to you, begging you to save yourselves. Believe me, join me, and live, or die as a fool in the dark."

Silence fell as we regarded him, and then Olympie surprised me once again. She gave him a polite bow of her head, and then with her frosty, almost Leska-esque tones she gave him her reply. "I will carry your message, but know this: my father joins who she wishes to join, and she will never bow her head to a Human who presumes to command a paltry section of the Hanar."

"Do not speak to me in those tones, maiden." The Herald growled back. "I once commanded-"

"Irrelevant." I interjected flatly, entirely done with this goddess-damned planet. "Your empire failed. Your methods failed. Yet here you are, insisting we follow you? A man who can't even control a tiny, peaceful nation? Jona may sell you weapons, for no other reason than her personal amusement, but I can tell you right now that you will receive no soldiers, no warships."

Armored gauntlets closed around the armrests of his chair, green light playing around them as his biotics responded to his emotion. "I will await the response of the Eclipse... now, in the eloquent language of this cycle: Fuck off."

* * *

 **Reviewer Responses:**

seabo76, BJ Hanssen - Glad you guys could join us!

Hope you all will continue to let us know what you think of this story so far! It's been a ton of fun to collaborate with Katkiller-V, and mess around in the delightful sandbox that is Mass Effect and the AR Universe!

Thanks for reading, and hope you'll continue to enjoy this fun project! EE-RAH!

-Tusken1602


	4. Barter and Trade

**The Herald**

 _ **Location**_ : Temple of the Enkindler's Memory, Kahje

* * *

 **Well... as far as first impressions go, I've seen worse. Can't remember where, or when, exactly.**

 _ **Shut up.**_

 **No, really, I do appreciate being the voice of caution and moderation for once.**

Growling mentally at Beast's snark, I threw aside the tablet containing the various reports that the Primacy had accumulated on the Eclipse and Silver Blades. Neither was a simple organization, and both were evidently formidable in their own ways.

 **Formidable for** **this** **cycle,** Beast corrected me

 _ **Perhaps.**_ I mused, less concerned with their capabilities and more concerned with the information about both groups' leaders.

Jona Sederis had an extensive series of reports detailing her rise to power, her evident insanity, and her almost inexplicable recovery from said insanity. The most concerning matter to the Hanar was the Asari's raw power when it came to the biotic arts; she had personally slain three of the Primacy's best Drell agents when they had been sent to recover a piece of Prothean art that the Warlord had acquire... and done so with almost contemptuous ease.

Further, she had amassed a significant Empire in the 'Terminus' region of the galaxy, and done so rather cleverly. Territories that could be conquered without alarming her rivals had been, territories that could not be were bought or subverted, and for nearly two centuries she had disguised her nation as little more than an overly expansive corporation... until she had felt herself strong enough to shed the disguise.

 _ **She would have been an excellent viceroy in our cycle.**_ I allowed **,** _ **She is suitably ruthless... accepts no challengers to her power... yet shows a degree of realism in her actions.**_

 **Perhaps.** Beast growled in reply, deliberately mimicking my earlier tones.

The larger problem was the Human she had sent to escort her agent... one Cieran Kean **.** The records of his military exploits were copious and detailed, but his early life had gaping holes in the intelligence record. For all that the Hanar knew, the man had simply stepped fully grown from the void some seven years ago, and there was _nothing_ to suggest how he or any of the other Terminus warlords could have known about the Reapers.

 _ **He has suffered at their hands, that much was plain.**_ I shook my head to clear the memories of the _shattering_ pain I had detected even through our brief Mind-Share, even as Beast scoffed.

 **He is an arrogant fool, who thinks he knows what 'suffering' means.**

 _ **But he is also the first human we have seen in over fifty millennia: one who has suffered as we have.**_

 **Suffered as** **I** **have you mean,** came the resounding snarl.

"Exalted One?"Tallaxis called as it floated into the room, his entry stopping the mental argument before it could fully begin. His body flashed in the dim lighting as he bobbed into a low bow, "High Witness Korban craves an audience."

I waved a hand in acknowledgment. My yeoman bobbed again before sliding aside as Korban floated into the room. The fact that Tallaxis moved back _much_ further than necessary to avoid touching the other Hanar did not escape me.

 **They are afraid of us.**

 _ **They just don't understand the technology. It might as well be Magic and Sorcery to them.**_

There was a deep snort. **Fucking Primitives.**

"Exalted One," Korban greeted, bowing as low as his tentacles allowed him. "The Unbelievers have taken their taint from the Temple of the Enkindler's Memory."

"In the days to come we will need _more_ of their kind, High Witness," I stated simply.

"Truly, Lord?" Korban started with surprise. "They do not remember the Enkindlers, or honor their name…"

"Stands-with-the-Enkindlers," Beast snarled, cutting him off as I abruptly stood from my seat. On my right hand, the spikes extended from my wrist gauntlet in a clear threat that was extended by my words. "Do you require _another_ lesson in the consequences of doubting your Herald?"

At the use of his Soul Name, the High Witness glowed a bright white, and this time prostrated himself entirely upon the floor. Tallaxis also went an uncomfortable sheen of fuchsia, floating a meter or so closer to the door.

"The Cycle Wheel turns again," I stated more calmly, wrestling Beast aside... though still looming over the terrified priest. "The Ancient Ones will soon return from the Void. On that day, the knowledge of the Enkindlers must be used to save all people, and bring all together, in one mind and one accord, under the banner of the Reborn Empire."

"As it is written," Koban agreed piteously, "This one is admonished, Herald."

I exhaled and nodded slightly, "Now for the more important question... _how?_ "

The priest had just been about to rise, and collapsed back to the floor as if he had been struck. Which, mentally speaking, he had. "...Herald?"

"How did the other powers of the galaxy learn so much of the Reapers, and in such a way as the Hanar themselves were ignorant of the scope of their knowledge?!" Beast snarled. " _Gangsters_ and _criminal_ warlords know of the Reapers and yet _you_ were unaware of their knowledge!"

When the Hanar simply quivered, I exhaled and spoke in turn, "As you said, they do not remember the Enkindlers, and my words fall on deaf ears. And yet _somehow_ , they are able to learn more about the Reapers than even the Illuminated Primacy!"

"This one… this one…"

Beast growled, taking control to reach down and grasp the top of the Hanar, biotic ligh flaring around my arm.

"Your ineptitude _embarrassed_ us, Korban!" Came the growl. "They made us to appear a _fool_!"

"Herald," Tallaxis interjected, almost hesitantly drifting forwards. "We still hold the intellectual high ground."

At my inquisitive look, he continued hurriedly, "Aside from the disastrous battle above Noveria, there are none in this galaxy who have given battle to a Reaper platform directly, and lived to tell of it. In the face of such a threat, intellectual knowledge of their existence pales in comparison to first-hand knowledge…"

"…On how to kill them," I finished, taking the opportunity to release Korban, who didn't so much as twitch from where he remained cowering at our feet.

Tallaxis bobbed hastily in agreement. "And when full battle is joined…"

"… they will need the Word of the Protheans," I mused. "And they will listen to me, or throw away their lives uselessly!"

"So mote it be," Tallaxis said fervently, in unison with the still-prostrate Korban.

"What other news?" I inquired, ignoring the High Witness as it slowly gathered itself and rose back into the air.

"With the… _hmmm..._ 'endorsement' of High Witness Korban," Tallaxis stated tactfully, "the word of the Herald of the Enkindlers is being sent out via the missions we have established across the galaxy, including into the Terminus."

I grunted, stepping back and settling into my chair once more. "And what of the Holy Excavators?"

"They have been given the coordinates of the locations you indicated," Korban spoke, his voice and bio-luminescence both subdued.

I closed my eyes, _willing_ for them to be successful.

 **Javik... Eshowe... Vielle...** Beast murmured their names, an almost desperate longing in his gravelly voice. **If even one of the Hidden Cities is still active, our work will be half-done: we can build an army around proper soldiers, rather than having to rely upon these primitives.**

 _ **We must plan for the worst, though, Beast: it is a miracle beyond miracles that my pod lasted for so long. Still... if any of the Avatars have survived…**_

 **At the very least, the weapons caches will prove useful. Assuming the primitives of this cycle have not picked the bones and tombs of the dead clean.**

 _ **Or that the forsaken did.**_

"It would seem, then, Herald," Tallaxis stated slowly, clearly hesitant to intrude upon my thoughts, clearly knowing that some things had to be discussed sooner rather than later. "That we can expect no ships or troops from the Eclipse."

"That… _Kean_ … said as much," I acknowledged unwillingly.

"Perhaps a tactic to attempt to leverage more concessions from the Beloved?" He mused.

"I sensed no lie in his words," I answered, "Or in those of Berra Olympie."

"Then we must turn to other sources for assistance," Tallaxis sighed. "With few available to us, Honored Herald."

I fought the urge to grimace openly, ""What is the report from Ilos? The Mu Relay?"

"It is guarded from _this_ side by a battle-station of some considerable strength," my yeoman answered. "They are under the banner of Aria T'Loak, she who calls herself the Black Queen."

There was another scoff from Beast at the titles the rulers of this cycle insisted upon. **Father Below and Mother Above, it's like watching children try to juggle.**

 _ **And 'Exalted Herald of the Enkindler's Return' seems**_ _ **much**_ _ **more reasonable by comparison, no?**_

Beast, typically, ignored the reply in favor of continuing. **These… petty warlords respect only strength. Strength and raw violence. Something that the Hanar know** **nothing** **about.**

 _ **Perhaps then… a demonstration is in order?**_

There was a scoff _._ _ **You**_ _ **were the one reminding me that we lack an army, a navy, an empire.**_

A quiet _beep_ interrupted our mental dialogue, causing Tallaxis to lift a tentacle, an Omni-Tool flaring to life. He perused the message for a moment, then glowed excitedly before turning back to me.

"A report from the Intelligence Service," he exclaimed triumphantly, "Governor Oolon and the garrison of Rough Tide have declared for the Faithful."

"What assets do they control?" I asked, trying to focus on _what_ this victory meant exactly, rather than lose myself in useless exaltation.

"While… not numerous military-wise," Tallaxis admitted, "The mining operations there are extremely lucrative."

 _ **That will swell our war-chest comfortably.**_

 **While making Zymandis all the poorer.**

 **"** With that comes the relationship Oolon has cultivated with several mercenary groups and local pirates in the area," Tallaxis continued.

"Such as?"

"A drell captain name Sirena Olm is already under contract to supplement the colony's protection," He answered, "She controls a destroyer and three corvettes."

"Pirates," Korban scoffed, finally rising back to his full height. "Unbelievers and apostates. Herald, surely they are not…"

"They are survivors," I cut him off. "This…T'Loak, Sederis, and T'Ravt are _warriors_ who have carved their empires by the sword and fire of war. _They_ understand what is necessary in the Great War ahead, unlike the fools on the Citadel, who still believe that somehow _diplomacy_ has its place in the ruling of the stars."

"On that note, there are two more reports," Tallaxis stated calmly. "The first states that Zymandis has sent Bolohn to represent the Expectant to the Citadel Council."

"Apostate!" the High Witness cursed, "A bloated glutton wants only to fuck his asari whores and mistresses. _Just_ the type of Hanar who brings shame to the name of the Beloved of the Enkindlers."

"And just the type of person who Zymandis would attract," Tallaxis concurred tactfully.

"It is of little consequence," I shrugged. "We have control of the homeworld, and the main coffers of the Illuminated Primacy. He cannot claim to speak for _even half_ the Illuminated Primacy, much less the majority. The Council races will realize he has nothing with which to bargain with, and will dismiss him for what he is: a rebel and a traitor to the true Faithful."

"So mote it be," The two hanar intoned.

"And the third report?" I asked.

After Tallaxis answered, every muscle in my body went rigid, and it was only with great difficulty that I held Beast back.

"Is the Blades' ship still in orbit?" I asked through clenched teeth.

"It is indeed, Exalted One," Korban answered.

"Hail them _immediately_ ," I ordered tersely. "Tell Kean to name his own price: I need to speak with Sederis... personally."

* * *

 **Location** : SBS _Shokari_ , in orbit above Kahje.

* * *

One hour and a _very_ terse conversation later, my shuttle was docking in the mercenary light cruiser's hangar bay.

 **Cruiser,** scoffed Beast from deep in the recesses of my mind. **We would not have let such a vessel carry** **cargo** **in our cycle.**

 _ **Each cycle does according to its capabilities, Beast**_ **,** I answered, probably not to his satisfaction... or to mine either.

The doors opened to reveal a squad of troopers, all with weapons at the ready, and a distinct lack of the personnel I'd expect to see in a hangar bay. I sent out a low _pulse_ of welcome and reassurance over the Mind-Plane. Not so direct as to be a _full_ Share, but enough to try and ease the tension that hung over the entire bay. These were beings not entirely pleased to see me once again, likely annoyed that they were not returning to their dens of depravity.

Following my orders, my Drell and Hanar bodyguards proceeded slowly to fan out on either side, matching up with the mercenaries awaiting us.

"Herald?" The armored figure at the front asked, pointedly, but not impolitely.

I inclined my head in acknowledgment.

He gave me an odd bow, titling his head a hair or two to the left. "Squad Leader Volern of the Silver Blades. The Director and Ambassador Olympie are awaiting you in the Communications Center. If you will follow me?"

 _ **Turian**_ _._

 **Bows and arrows were magic to them the last time we saw one.**

 _ **And the cross-visored helmets are no doubt Batarians. They've grown bigger since our cycle**_ _._

There were guards at every junction of the hallways, no doubt to ensure that none of my honor guard "got lost" while accompanying me. It was difficult to tell at times thanks to the armor, but Asari and Batarians seemed predominate, with smaller numbers of Turians, Humans, and Quarians thrown in for variety's sake.

Far more interesting to me were the glimpses of the actual crew, beings not cocooned in armor. Perhaps two minutes into the walk we moved through an intersection, several engineers waiting impatiently for us to pass so that they could cross, and one of them immediately drew every iota of my attention to the point where I couldn't even recall what species the others were.

 _ **Human…**_

 **Female…**

It took every ounce of self-control to not reach out with a Mind-Share towards the woman. She had exotically dark skin, her body slender and elegant beneath the navy uniform that clung to her. Her hair was black as the void, several rows of long braids not dissimilar to my own hanging behind her. Though she was not one of my people, her forehead was smaller, her features softer, she was... beautiful... and deliciously confident. If she was unnerved by an armored figure looking her up and down, she did not show it in action or aura, simply crossing her arms impatiently beneath her breasts and glaring at me for daring to delay her.

"Herald." Volern's implied rebuke at our delay brought a modicum of relief to the torrent of emotions that were flooding Beast and my mental state.

"Carry on," I managed, turning away with an effort and continuing on our way down the hallway. I had mostly managed to calm myself by the time we reached the end of the hall, the heavy hatchway opening to reveal a small group of figures gathered around what appeared to be a primitive holo-projector set into a table.

Berra Olympie was the easiest to identify, the Asari still bearing her dress and sitting primly on the left side of the room. Beside her was another of the same species, her skin an odd shade of purple, her face covered in jagged inks to lend her lithe frame a degree of severity. While I could not read the ranking symbols on her uniform, the confidence she exuded made me believe she commanded this particular vessel.

Across from them was Kean, the man having removed his helmet, once again sending my emotions into some degree of turmoil. His skin was as pale as the woman's had been dark, accented by scarring around his left eye. Brown hair was tied into a pair of braids that hung on either of his shoulders, more of it was tied at the base of his neck, and even his beard featured a pair of woven strands that hung from beside his mouth.

Pale green eyes regarded me dispassionately, his aura equally as cold. Behind him there was nothing visually, but I could feel another being, a fire that burned in contrast to the ice.

 **The cloaked figure must be that Quarian… Voya'Chi, her name was. I like her… hers is the rage to consume worlds… I can almost** _ **taste it…**_

 _ **Enough of that**_ _._

Before my guards could undertake their routine, Kean flicked a hand to bring the projector fully to life. A figure I recognized as Jona Sederis appeared, the Asari Warlord covered in golden armor, her large hologram towering over us in a less-than-subtle power move.

In response, one of the holy guardians lifted a tentacle slowly, and all of my guards Omni-Tools _beeped_ before broadcasting the pre-recorded message. "Behold Seneschal Ko'le, Herald of the Enkindlers, He who leads his people in their time of need!"

The child looked surprised, while Kean and his subordinate didn't react, and the now uncloaked Quarian's posture looked genuinely annoyed. In contrast the image of the eldest Asari merely looked slightly amused.

Rather than introduce herself properly, she simply crossed her arms and spoke, "My daughter has told me of your outlandish claims. All I will say that this had better not be a waste of my time."

I grinned mirthlessly, allowing my own helmet to collapse away from my features, letting her see the smirk as I replied in kind, "And my advisors have told me of yours."

The _flicker_ of amusement in its eyes died away at the indirect challenge. "You have exactly eight minutes to convince me of the truth of your claims, and why my Eclipse should care about Hanar killing one another."

I felt my hands curling into fists, and a green glow crackled around me as Beast stirred, rising to meet the challenge. I managed to answer through clenched teeth, forcing aside the anger directed at someone not even present, "Regardless of who I am and where I come from in the past, _Today_ I control more than half of the Hanar nation. _That_ much is true, and indisputable. As to the rest of my just and right claims, you are free to believe or disbelieve as your mood takes you, but I will not _perform_ like a _jalap-monkey_ to gain your smile and coin."

A moment of silence hung in the air. Kean's features betrayed nothing, but in the corner, Chi paused in her almost absent-minded twirling of her curved knives.

"Putting aside who I claim to be, I _am_ the Herald of the Faithful Faction of the Illuminated Primacy. If you do not believe that, then I will take my leave."

Sederis tilted her head ever so slightly, not a single emotion flickering across her face. Then very slowly, she nodded. "What then do you _offer_ , Herald?"

 _"This_."

I lifted my own Master-Tool sending a projection forward for the benefit of the assembled group. At the sight of the weapon, Director Kean shifted _ever_ so slightly, his eyes narrowing at the image now floating before me.

 _ **Confirmed**_ **.**

 _ **I can**_ _ **see**_ _ **that.**_

"The paltry weapons of your cycle shave ammo blocks, and consume heat sinks in order to continue firing with any degree of efficacy." I informed them, doing my best to insure that my disgust at having to make this... _trade_ did not appear in my voice. "This Prothean weapon does neither, allowing for continuous beam of fire to control the battlefield."

There was a moment of silence as everyone beheld the floating hologram, then Sederis flicked her attention to the side. "Director Kean."

Kean turned towards me, shifting his entire body, rather than merely turning his head. I tried to focus on reading his aura, or even to pick up on the emotions bleeding through it, but it had been so long since we had had to do so to a _non-Prothean..._ there was emotion beneath that layer of cool disdain, but I was having a difficult time reading it.

 _ **Time to test exactly how much this one knows...**_

"You can attest to this weapon's abilities…" I paused deliberately, "Can you not?"

The man's eyes narrowed as his body tensed, the hand that he had left on the table tapping a finger a few times on the surface.

 **That surprise you, you arrogant son of a bitch?**

 _ **Beast...**_

"We've salvaged a few similar models from the Collectors," he answered, directing his words more towards Sederis than to me.

The scorn in the Beast's voice was _palpable,_ "The strength of the Fallen came from numbers and thralls. Their version of this rifle is a crude mockery at best."

The mercenary blinked once, then again, and then straightened and tilted his head to the right as he regarded me more sharply than he had the moment before.

"And the hesitation in your aura tells me that you haven't assembled anything _close_ to a functional weapon from your salvaged scrap, Kean." I continued, "Unless perhaps you _prefer_ for your soldiers to kill themselves with their own weapons?"

Kean said nothing to confirm or deny, simply sitting stoically, and I turned back to face the larger-than-life image this so-called Queen of the Eclipse. "What I offer you is the weapon that conquered a dozen races, bringing them all under the banner of the Prothean Empire."

"And in return?" Sederis asked.

A gesture saw the image of the rifle replaced with the view of a planet and several decrypted intelligence dossiers.

"Director Kean brings me Zymandis, and the blueprints will be yours," I answered after giving them a few moments to inspect the information. "And he must be brought before me _alive_ : he is just another lump of flesh to me dead."

Sederis lifted a hand, tapping a finger against her lips, voice becoming a purr. "You plan on making an example of him?"

"I plan on making a _disciple_ of him." I corrected.

Everyone physically present stiffened, but the image of the Asari Warlord merely gave me a smile that in no way reached her eyes. "I have seen many things, Herald, in my lifetimes, but I have never seen a Hanar change its mind about its faith."

Beast's sudden animalistic snarl caused the younger Asari to start visibly. "Then perhaps _that alone_ will bring clarity as to if I am who I claim to be."

After a few further moments of silence, I made the _slightest_ of bows, bringing my right hand across my chest. When I spoke, I did so slowly, keeping my tone even, and Beast's mocking at bay. "I will take my leave, no doubt you and the Director wish to deliberate on this matter in private.

Mother Above and Father Below keep you. Until our next meeting."

A gentle but brilliant flare of green biotics accompanied the end of my words, and then I spun on my heel and left the room, bodyguards in tow.

* * *

 **Legacy's Witness**

 **(Berra Olympie)**

* * *

As soon as the door was closed, my father turned to Director Kean.

"Another one of the Matriarch's playthings?" Her eyes were narrowed in thought. "He had the same hitch as that female experiment that you discovered."

"No," The human shook his head after a moment, "She tends to surround her tests with Asari to keep them controllable, and the time-line is entirely off if the Hanar are telling the truth about when and where they found him."

Jona Sederis pursed her lips, flicking a hand to one side, her image downsizing to something more casual as she walked to her right, settling into a chair as it came into view. "The weapon looked _real_ enough, similar to the devices you acquired on that decrepit pit. Is such a mission doable, given the time-constraints?"

Kean's right finger twitched as he exhaled, turning his shoulders to regard the file that the Herald had transmitted. When he spoke his voice was noncommittal in the extreme, "Rift isn't far off, two relay bounces and then a short FTL hop. The larger problems are its location; it's right on the edge of Union space so the STG could be a problem, and last I heard Aria was trying to acquire the place."

"She is trying," My father shrugged, her smile small and mirthless, "Though less than successfully at the moment."

The Blades' director said nothing, merely flicking a hand in a wordless gesture of bargaining. For her part, Jona continued to muse on the topic for several long breaths, then exhaled sharply. "Will an additional three months be sufficient?"

There was a definite twitch to the man's features. He clearly didn't want anything to do with this, but three months without payments for recruiting within our region was something on the order of millions of credits. After a few breaths of his own, he grimaced and twitched his head into a nod. "That and costs for this ship and crew for the duration of the mission. Unless this Zymandis brought an army along with him I shouldn't need to bring in anyone else."

"Yes, fine," Father answered impatiently. "And the recompense of any soldiers lost. Just get it done. Now go, I would speak to my daughter alone."

Green eyes rolled as the man rose from his chair, his Captain and his lover both following. The former didn't look overly thrilled, but the latter, oddly enough, bounced slightly on her heels and seemed to be positively _giddy_ at the sudden prospect for a fight.

Which went along with what I'd read about the Hunters, I supposed.

"Berra." My father's words brought me crashing back to the present. "You say he melded with you… and never made physical contact? _Of any kind?"_

I gulped and shook my head. "No, father. He was almost ten meters away from us the whole time. But…"

"But what, child?" Came the impatient response when my voice trailed away.

"It wasn't a meld… not like… a _true_ meld." I hastened to explain myself, stumbling a bit as I tried to find the right words. "It was as if… I was watching a screen of someone's childhood memories, and feeling… _fingers_ on the back of my neck, searching… _asking_ for my own."

Sederis let out a small hiss of irritation. "Athame's azure... I should have sent along a Whisperer with you. You are young, and the two of you might have made more sense of the experience. You will meld with one immediately upon return."

"Yes, father."

She nodded, then her frown deepened. "What did you see?"

"Not much," I admitted. "I was startled at first at the unexpected experience, and the unfamiliar sensations, but I disseminated the information and cleansed like Matriarch T'Laria taught us."

The was _something_ like approval in the snort my father gave in return, but the inquiring look did not fade.

"It was… a village of some kind... I think," I said slowly, closing my eyes to focus on the memory. It was already difficult, my focus having been elsewhere, trying to evict my attacker rather than on the thoughts he had projected. "There were Asari there… but they were clad in rags… and carried bone-tipped spears."

"Is that all?"

I shook my head, concentrating. "There was one… she is tattooed from head to toe… she grips her spear with… _webbed_ fingers, and on her neck… _Gills, maybe?_ Or something like them. That's all…That's all I saw, or at least, all he shared with me."

My father nodded wordlessly, then looked back down to me.

"Stay close to Kean on Rift," she ordered simply. "Listen and observe, contribute to the fighting where and when asked."

"Yes… ma'am," I answered, keeping my eyes lowered.

Jona Sederis reached over to the switch, and then paused, as if suddenly remembering something. "I am pleasantly surprised you have not managed to fuck this situation up so far, Berra."

 _Thanks, Dad..._

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing! Please leave your thoughts/ideas/constructive criticisms! We love hearing back from you guys!**

 **EE-RAH!**

 **-Tusken1602**

* * *

Reviewer Responses:

seabo76: Here's the first little intro to Berra's POV. Hope you like it!

BJ Hanssen: Right? Nobody died! In the AR-Universe, that's always a plus!


	5. Hunting a Hanar

**The Silver Blade  
(Cieran Kean) **

**Location:** Rift, Janos System, Dawahare Cluster

Fighting against Krogan was never the most enjoyable of experiences, and it became progressively less so the better they were equipped.

The group advancing towards us each bore a towering riot shield in one hand, technical armor gleaming to further reinforce the metal and ceramic protection, heavy shotguns protruding from notches on the appropriate sides. It was an exceedingly annoying combination, especially since whoever was leading this band understood the value of covering fire. Solid slug rounds were keeping the majority of my team stuck in cover, and they'd set up an additional unit to protect their flanks, blocking off the two squads of marines I'd tried to send around the flank.

"We should have fucking brought a full company!" Voya snapped at me, her Viper spitting out an armor piercing round that drilled through a shield... and then ricocheted harmlessly of off the heavy armor behind it. "Fucking _keshin_!"

I grimaced, but didn't have the time to remind her that this was supposed to be a _stealth_ operation, and that Aria's people had been edgy enough about me landing a few squads much less the _Shokari's_ entire marine detachment.

"Engineers! Volley incinerates, high angle, three waves." My Omni-tool spun to life, as did two members of the marine squad with us, flaring to life as we prepared to do our mortar team impersonation. If they stuck to form, the krogan would turtle up like a Roman formation, which at least would buy my flanking force, and ourselves, a bit more time.

That or they'd just rush us and things would get complicated.

Our preparations were interrupted by a very hollow _plunking_ sound, followed by several more just like it. I stole another glance to see several objects that looked like they were covered in tar stuck to the surface of several of the Krogans' shields.

Where those _... socks?_

Everyone stopped shooting in abject confusion; proving that even the citizens of the Terminus could find _some_ shit strange. One of the Krogan lackadaisically reached out and pulled one off his shield, staring at it through his helmet. The quiet made his rumbling voice audible even to us, "What the…?"

Before he, or anyone else, could answer, a massive explosion took off his hand, right arm, and that side of his face. Simultaneously, the other tar-socks exploded, shattering the Krogan's shields and making them howl in anger and pain.

Knowing a chance when we saw it, we promptly resumed firing, even as a yowling voice screamed from behind us. "Blood and Vinegar! _Sari ekra kitchu!"_

 _"_ Athame's fucking..." My eyes snapped to the camera in the back of my helmet, even as Voya snarled out her own warnings.

"Vorcha!" She made the name a curse, a sound taken up by several others as the viral aliens appeared from the forest all around us. All were armored, right up to fully-enclosed helmets... it was hard to tell, but they looked like heavily-modded Salarian Onyx-suits, though they'd clearly been purchased and assembled piecemeal rather than as full sets.

Fucking shit. Armored Vorcha were either veteran soldiers, or were those smart enough to know what they were doing. These looked like both, and worse, they had managed to get behind us.

Suddenly, the leading alien in question raised what looked like scavenged missile launcher, the weapon belching flame as the rocket streaked forward. It flickered over Volern's crouching form, slamming into a Krogan right in the center of its chest.

"What?" Berra gasped as gunfire began to explode out from the crowd, none of it directed at us. Instead more Vorcha, these armed with decent quality sniper rifles, appeared from the brush, focusing their fire on the remaining Krogan that had been attacking us. Those who had survived the initial series of explosions found their armor shredded and their barriers gone. A few activated biotic barriers, but the focused fire soon brought even these down.

I was struggling to process the scene, and apparently everyone else was as well. Everyone else on my team slowly ceased firing, even Voya, the lot of us just watching as Vorcha stampeded past us to take the fight to the larger aliens. Rifles and shotguns roared as the two sides exchanged fire at point-blank range, the Vorcha adding grenades to the mix to further emphasize their numerical advantage.

Vorcha attacking Krogan... evidently without Krogan of their own to direct them. It didn't make any bloody sense, but it was obviously happening.

Within a minute or two there was only one Krogan left, evidently the unit leader from the quality of his armor. He'd lost his shotgun but drawn a combat knife, and had already put down three of his attackers as he roared. Impressive as the beast might have been, a Krogan's combat knife was literally a broadsword to any other species, it would hardly do him any good against the swarm of guns now directed his way, the Vorcha... _smartly_ backing away to create a kill zone.

But rather than simply shoot the idiot to death, one of the creatures, this one's armor a bright red, broke ranks and sprinted right at him. It ducked under the Krogan commander's wild swing, sliding between his legs, slamming _something_ directly onto his opponent's armor. The massive alien paused and looked down, recognizing what had just been magnetically attached between his legs. The explosion that followed caused me, and a few of the Asari, to wince reflexively. Voya seemed to appreciate it, chuckling darkly as she rose from her piece of cover.

Unfortunately, the motion seemed to bring their attention to us, and several dozen weapons were pointed more or less in our direction. We, naturally, all snapped our own guns up and reflexively shifted into a circular formation, and I quickly palmed a stun grenade and flicked my eyes around to find the weakest group.

The situation became even more tense when my flanking force finally showed up, twenty Blades marines stumbling into the clearing from behind the Krogan, and clearly having no idea what they were looking at.

"Hold fire!" It took me a few moments to even process what the shout was, and I could only blink in confusion before it shouted again, more loudly, "I said _hold your fire,_ ya gumpty nouks!"

The crowd of vicious aliens promptly stood down, lowering their weapons and visibly relaxing, even if none of us did. One of the closer members, the same one who'd suicidally charging the Krogan, removed his helmet and gave us something like a polite nod. "You'd be the Silver Blades, I take it then?"

My limited experience when dealing with Vorcha, in the rare times they hadn't been _actively_ trying to kill me, was little better than dealing with rabid animals. They grunted, hissed, shrieked, and then usually tried to kill or eat whoever they were talking with. To hear one speaking in complete sentences was… unsettling.

"Colour-Sergeant Pyke Morrel, sah!" A crisp, military salute that would have done an Xenthan Turian proud snapped up to his brow. None of us returned it, something that didn't seem to bother him as he continued to rattle words off. "First Heshtok Irregulars, at ya service, sirrah!"

"First Heshtok Irregulars…?" I asked, trying to keep the incredulity out of my voice and body language, probably not with great success.

"In-Deedee-o, sah, got it in one." The Vorcha, who seemed to be in charge, snapped to attention and bowed his head politely once again. "You would be Cieran Kean, I presume? Vanquisher of Ganar Yulaz?"

I nodded mutely, still trying to process what the _fuck we_ had just stumbled into. This was... very much not what I'd expected.

"Our detachment is currently under bloomin' contract with the Lady Aria, ya ken," Pyke continued. "It would seem..."

"Wait." I interrupted him even as he clearly made to continue. "Proof of employ."

"Of course, sirrah." His omni-tool lit up a breath later, and I activated mine to accept the file. A few flicks of my fingers had various scans run over it before the tool confirmed that Aria's latest encryptions were laced through the contract. Either he had an incredible hacker in his employ, or he was actually telling the truth.

He continued on before I could say anything, "We heard the shooting and jolly well decided to drop in your hootenanny, sah. One moment, sah," he said before I could even affect a reply. "Irregulars! Fall out! Kit check in five! Make ready to resume forced march!"

Voya came up next to me, still keeping her Viper close to the ready position. "Cie, by my Ancestors... what is this?"

"I have no idea." I admitted quietly. "Since when does _Aria_ hire _Vorcha?_ "

The armored Vorcha surrounding us had given their commander sharp salutes as the snipers scrambled out of cover all around us, moving quickly and with a surprising amount of purpose for the species.

"I count _forty_ ," Volern grunted, dropping to a knee as he made a show of checking over his weapon.

 _"_ Forty- _three_ ," Voya corrected. "Three of them are still behind us."

Nearby, Berra Olympie shifted a little uncomfortably, moving to step closer to me. She was clearly at ill at ease as we were, and hadn't been read into the local situation any more than we had. That wasn't terribly re-assuring, and I quietly murmured orders for the other two squads to link up with our unit.

" _Corporal Kryt_!" Pyke barked. "Sentries to be placed at forty and eighty yards! See to it!"

"Sah!" Another Vorcha saluted and scampered off, eight or so of his comrades in tow. Pyke took stock of his clan that had none-too-subtly surrounded us, noted the other teams firmly pushing their way past his people to end that particular situation, and then turned to face me.

"You have wounded, sah?" He said, cocking his head in the direction of our only wounded soldier. She'd removed her helmet to down some painkillers while one of her companions worked at her wound. At the offer, she paled considerably and flicked a desperate gaze in my direction, the wordless message entirely clear. I didn't blame her, I'd risk a field dressing any day before I'd put myself in the hands of a Vorcha medic, a concept I hadn't even _considered_ until eight seconds ago.

"Medico!" Pyke barked before I could tell him we were fine.

Before any of us could object, a Salarian appeared out of the bushes, med kit in hand.

"Sir?" He asked, saluting the Vorcha. The sight was so comical that if I hadn't been seeing it _right_ in front of me, I'd have assumed it part of a comedy skit.

"Dr. Lemrin, see to the wounded of Commander Kean's party." The Vorcha commanded, and as he spoke I finally placed his bizarre accent. He was speaking English, which was weird enough on its own, but it was as if he'd learned from watching vids about redcoats and sailing vessels. Particularly _bad_ vids, at that.

"Yes, sir!" The Salarian replied, and quickly moved to kneel down beside the soldier

"You're seeing this too, right?" Voya muttered, long fingers shifting around her weapon, the barrel pointed near enough... _Pyke_ 's feet to make it clear she'd snap-shot a round into his head the heartbeat she thought he was trying something. "I'm not going crazy again?"

"No more than usual," I muttered, ignoring the elbow I received the comment. "Berra, have you ever seen anything like this?"

"No." The Asari replied quietly, still firmly keeping both Voya and I between her and the main body of Vorcha. "I mean, you always hear rumors of people who've tried to raise them up beyond what the Krogan bother to do, but I've never actually heard of it _working_."

I grunted. "Voya, stay with them. Berra... let's go talk to… their commander."

"Yeah... um, about that." The younger Eclipse's helmet was fixated on the vorcha as it hacked at one of the dead Krogan. "What is he doing?"

"Judging by that knife," I answered. "I'd say he's supervising his men in cutting out the hearts of the fallen Krogan. Maybe the livers."

"Enjoy that conversation," Voya huffed, turning away and moving to stand over by Volern, who was running the squad through weapon checks and to ensure there were no more wounded.

Grimacing, I waved for Berra to follow, the young Asari visibly reluctant to do so. Still, she followed as I trudged over, staying silent as I called out. "Colour-Sergeant?"

"Sah?" Pyke answered, spinning in perfect parade-ground about-face. "Apologies for the delay. Krogan hearts a damn tender delicacy, don't cha know. How are your men fixed for provisions?"

"Fine," I replied quickly, holding up a hand to refuse the giant six-chambered heart Pyke had in-hand. I did my best to keep to the business on hand. "You wouldn't happen to have seen any signs of Jorgal Salamul's party?"

"They've made camp in an abandoned mining camp eighteen clicks northwest of us," the Vorcha reported.

I blinked at the candid answer, but before I could reply, one of the nearby Vorcha plunged a machete into the exposed chest of a nearby Krogan. The pain apparently was enough to jump-start _something_ in the warrior's physiology, because he suddenly sat up with a bellow of pain and batted the smaller creature away with a single swipe of its arm.

Almost simultaneously, the Colour-Sergeant and I drew our pistols in a single deft motion and unloaded into the Krogan's head. A sniper rifle _barked_ from behind us, showing that Voya was still on her toes, as well as a half-dozen rifles and shotguns from nearby members of both parties. The Krogan's unarmored torso more or less disintegrated in an orange mist, what was left of him flopping back down to the ground in a pulpy mass.

" _Rark!_!" Pyke snarled. "You said 'all enemies accounted for!' _For_ _future reference_ , that means ' _bloody fucking dead_ ', damn _your useless eyes_ sirrah!"

The trooper in question groaned, shaking its head as it slowly sat up. Its voice was thankfully the usual hissing screech, though it too chirped its words out in English. "Apologies sah! Rark sorry sah!"

His commander let out an almost normal Vorcha hiss before seeming to gather himself, turning back to me as if nothing had happened. "You're welcome to bivouac with us tonight and coordinate our joint attack at dawn tomorrow."

"Perhaps..." I said, trying to remember the last time I had heard anyone use the term 'bivouac' in a sentence, "Our planned location was probably compromised. Have you checked for sentries beyond this band?"

"They raided Harden's Hollow this morning," Pyke nodded, throwing an arm out towards the small city beyond the forest. "Salamul will be in a celebratory mood. His Vorcha bring _shame_ upon the _name_ , sah. Undisciplined blighters, the lot of them. Dem shame, sah."

"Right," I said, trying to keep up with Pyke's archaic mode of speech. I'd gotten used to hearing English again, during my time with Shepard and Lawson, but they'd spoken it _normally._ Well... Lawson had, at least. I had no idea what gutter-dialect that Shepard had devolved into whenever she got pissed enough.

"Half of them will be a drunken stupor by morning," Pyke went on, "And the other half will be too dazed to offer effectual resistance."

My lips pursed as I managed to get the proper currents of thought moving again, losing myself in the tactical problem rather than the oddity of who I was working with. "You want to hit them right at dawn, or a few hours before? Your armor spec'd for night fighting?"

"It is indeed sah." The Vorcha nodded firmly, his voice hardening a bit. "We aren't rabble sah."

"I can see that." I shook my head a little, still not entirely sure what to make of this. "What kind of numbers are we talking about?"

"Twenty Krogan, at least two of them old berserkers. Fifty-eight Vorcha in tow. Eight Drell, four Batarian mercenaries, an asari, and one flippin' hanar fah good measure, sah."

Fuck, he would make this complicated. Well at least the asshole was still here. "The Hanar should be our target, Zymandis. The Asari would be his bodyguard. We will need Zymandis alive."

The Vorcha blinked in obvious surprise. "Alive, sah? I didn't think you did bounty missions."

I grimaced slightly inside my helmet. "Unusual circumstances."

"Well it's bally convenient either way." He remarked, "As he's one of the last fighting for his bloomin' Emperor's memory, Aria wishes Jorgal Salamul dead. And I think I've got just the plan to deal with these rotters. Full briefing at our camp? It's not more than four clicks away, if you're concerned about your wounded man."

Turning slightly, I called over to everyone else. "Everyone ready to move out. You going to be able to walk?"

The last I'd directed at the wounded woman, who was testing her weight on the field dressing the salarian had administered. "So long as I get a few more painkillers, boss."

"Good." I nodded and turned back to the Vorcha. "I suppose we should get going, if your... men are ready."

If he noticed my hesitation about the word he didn't show it, inside turning away to start barking at his troops to get ready to march. The path to the 1st Heshtok's camp took us through a winding canyon, until suddenly we emerged underneath a giant overhang. Several military cots were lined up along one side, and even more Vorcha shot to their feet, saluting their commanding officer, who had drawn a machete that was strapped to his back as we approached.

"Listen up! These be gun-friends, sent by the Dark Lady!" Pyke called out, pointing to each of us. "They are NOT for eating!"

"Oh _keelah_ , that's _marvelously_ comforting," Voya growled, low enough for just me to hear. "Why are we even bothering?"

"More of them that get killed fighting Krogan, the fewer of us do." I replied, equally _sotto vocce._ "Squad Leader Volern, I want a full watch all night. Two per squad. We'll setup there, just past the edge of the camp."

Where we could more easily shoot our way out if shit went to the deeps. I didn't care that Aria had vouched for this unit's capability, they were still bloody _Vorcha._ And Aria wasn't exactly on my list of people who I liked to take recommendations from in either case.

"And," I added quietly as we got moving, Vorcha scampering out of our way, "Try not to shoot our...hosts, but don't let them approach either. Voya, when you get a chance, recon the perimeter."

The Turian made a whistling grunt that conveyed his understanding, and utter agreement with the sentiment. For her part, my love merely clicked her mic, understanding the actual order to mean that she was to cloak and ghost around the camp to locate any potential issues. While the marine leader began to give orders in regards to the layout of the camp, I lingered nearby and supervised until a chirping voice spoke up nearby. "Zur?"

I twisted my torso around to see a younger Vorcha standing at rigid attention behind me... or maybe it was just shorter than the rest, I had no idea how to tell their age. "Yes?"

"Cutter-Sarjent wants to zee ya, zur. H'officers' beeving in ten, 'ee zays."

We all just kind of stared at him blankly. It took a few more repetitions of the message and a bit of conversation between us before we managed to translate the words to mean that _'Colour-Sergeant Morrel was holding an officers' briefing in ten minutes'_.

"Berra, you're with me again," I stated as I turned to follow the Vorcha runner. The young maiden sighed but dutifully rose from where she'd just sat upon a convenient log, the three of us proceeding over to a separate tent that had been pitched the back of the overhang, its origins hinted at by the faded STG symbol on the tent wall. Inside, Pyke, the salarian, and two other Vorcha were bent over a field-table, upon which was broadcast a holographic representation of the surrounding area.

"Ah, Commander Kean, splendid, glad you could join us, sah," Pyke greeted as we entered. "You of course have met my second, Dr. Lemrin?"

The salarian clicked the heels of his boots together, nodding his head at the same time as he inquired, "Your soldier's field dressing?

I nodded back. "Held through the march, you have her thanks."

"I'm a doctor, Director," the salarian answered, as if that explained everything.

"My adjutants, Corporals Kryt and Rark," Pyke said, continuing with the introductions.

The two Vorcha nodded politely in my general direction. Pyke reached out and knocked both of their heads together, quite violently.

" _Salute_ a bally h'officah, damn both of ya sons of hoores!" Thoroughly admonished, the pair of corporals snapped a salute towards both of us. Berra and I stared awkwardly for a moment, then she offered a casual Eclipse salute while I merely inclined my head slightly before turning to the holographic display.

"How did you get a map of this area?" I asked, honestly curious. "Stolen?"

"Our ship deployed a Stealth-Sat before leaving the system," Lemrin explained.

"Can't get much of a larger picture than twenty square kilos," Pyke proudly demonstrated, "And that only every seven standard hours, ya see, but better than jolly nothing, eh, wot?"

"True," I commented, taken aback a bit by his competence. In in backwater planet like Rift, it was unlikely Salamul or any of the other Blood Pack commanders had this level of surveillance, or that had even occurred to them to put up a proper satellite net. They were being outsmarted by a Vorcha of all things... evidently one that was actually sapient, but it was still weird enough to seem surreal.

"As we expected earlier, Commander, Jorgal's party has nae left the mining camp," Pyke said, zooming in on the holo-map. A small compound of buildings appeared, and figures could be seen wandering between them.

"Infrared to see inside the buildings?" Berra asked.

Now Pyke looked slightly abashed and crestfallen, or at least as much as a Vorcha could. Mostly I inferred it from his slumped shoulders and the shake of his head. "'Frayed not, madam. The Stealth-Sat doesn't have those capabilities."

I grunted. _That_ would have been too much for hope for, but as he'd said, this was still better than nothing. We could have had far better if the idiot pirate Aria had blockading the world had let the _Shokari_ enter low orbit and deploy a proper satellite grid, but he had all the initiative of a greedy, paranoid rock. I knew for a fact that he was letting smugglers come and go in exchange for credits, but he'd absolutely refused to let our cruiser so much as approach even though I'd made it clear I was here to assist in dealing with the local problems.

Incompetent slaving _keshin._ I supposed it was just further proof that, while Aria wanted the world, she didn't care enough to dispatch her actual forces to handle it. It was a minor land grab, something to keep a few of her vassals busy while she worked on more important matters elsewhere. If they took the place, good. If they got themselves killed, that left fewer pieces of driftwood in her organization.

Win-win from her point of view.

"We know that the hanar's party has not left the safety of Jorgal's warband," Lemrin stated, pointing to the largest building in the center of the compound. "We've seen him come back and forth between the buildings, probably bunking _here._ "

"What is a hanar leader doing on foot with a krogan, anyway?" Berra asked, managing to find some of her competence now that we were merely discussing things in conference. "I'd have thought he'd call in a shuttle to get him where he needs to go. Considering that it is merely pirates in the blockade, he would have confidence in bribing them."

"'Zactly what the blotter tried, ma'am," Pyke answered. "Used our SAM launcher to bring the blighter down, we did."

"We were under the impression that it was a supply shuttle for Jorgal at the time," Lemrin added, grinning somewhat sheepishly. "It was our last rocket, but it seemed to do the trick: the party appears to be moving on foot towards Mataveri."

"To arrange transport off the planet," I mused, recalling the city's name from my grey-box. "Mataveri is the last spaceport _not_ controlled by Aria's forces directly, correct?"

"Just so, and my sentiments precisely, sah," Pyke nodded vigorously.

I nodded slowly, "You said you had a plan of attack?"

"Sah," Pyke continued, gesturing to the map. "I can have all three trails to the camp stoppered tighter than a bally cask o' the creature. If we attack perhaps two hours 'fore the dawn, we can catch 'am in a crossfire, and send the lot of them to see Old Hob with minimal casualties."

"We need Zymandis _alive_ ," I stressed, mostly to remind him that we had our own mission.

Pyke furrowed his brows as much as he could. "Hmm…apologies sah, forgot that bit. Complicates the situation, yes, indeed-y, no doubt."

"The Hanar won't stand and fight," Lemrin speculated quietly, glancing in my direction. "Their kind are never up for a straight-up brawl: At the first shot, he'll turn tail and run, like they always do."

I nodded in agreement, seeing where he was going, and flicking my eyes around the map to identify which area would work best.

The Colour-Sergeant tilted his head. "What do you propose?"

"Your unit can attack as you planned," I mused aloud, stepping forwards and tracing them in turn with a hand before waving at the remaining path. "But leave the path to Mataveri clear, Zymandis might see it as a potential escape route. I'll take my people... here, one kilometer beyond the camp. Give us a couple of hours to prepare the scene and we'll have an ambush in place."

Pyke nodded thoughtfully. "Jorgal is under contract to escort the _hanar_ to Mataveri. There's the possibility he'll engage us with a jolly rear-action retreat, and you'd be facing _all_ the rotters at once."

I shook my head dismissively. "What I know of Salamul is that he's a typical Krogan. As soon as your troops start shooting, he'll throw everything he has at you, blindly and stupidly. Can you handle those berserkers?"

Pyke waved a hand. "Pish-tosh, sirrah. Berserkers can hit like a ton of bricks, to be sure, but they're also as _dumb_ as a ton of bricks. Isolate them with a feigned retreat, and then stick 'em with the tar-grenades, and _boom,_ that's all she wrote, sah."

"Don't underestimate them," I warned, wanting to make sure that they took this seriously, before taking another look at our proposed ambush site. "Okeer liked to tinker with the designs, you never know just what each one can do."

The Vorcha blinked, then nodded. "Wise advice sah, Thankee-sai."

I grunted and pushed away from the table, "With a bit of luck this should work. If it doesn't, we're going to have to make a sprint-run to get to Mataveri ahead of them. If they do try for a rear-guard, I'd appreciate you hounding them the entire way."

"My lads and I are always glad to kill Krogan sah. Donna worry about us." Pyke commented dryly. "Dawn is at Zero-Four-Thirty, Second Shift, I'll have my lads deployed an hour 'fore that. Flare will be the signal our attack has begun."

I glanced at the time in my HUD. That gave us about five hours' rest, maybe two more to get in position, with one more to get everything setup for a proper ambush. Not the best timeframe, but far superior than many of the situations I'd found myself in these past few years.

"Best of luck to ya, sah," Pyke offered, sticking out a hand. I stared for a moment, bit my tongue inside my helmet and slowly took his hand in my own.

"Good hunting," I managed, then turned and followed Berra out of the tent.

"They seem like they know what they're doing," Berra commented quietly. "Well organized, and well-equipped."

She jerked her chin over to a small group of them as we passed, disassembling their weapons for maintenance. The guns looked like first-generation Avengers, for the most part; nearly twelve years old by now, but with somewhat reluctant approval I noticed that they seemed to have been well-cared for, or at least modified with some skill. But I raised an eyebrow as a few of the vorcha openly sported new Redcliffe model carbines, and not a few of the crates around us bore the symbol of our Illium factories, along with Aria's sigil.

"Well, I can see for _whom_ Aria has been buying at least _some_ of our weapons, at any rate," I mused. "But I thought I had heard of almost every merc band on her payroll."

"Me too," the Eclipse lieutenant nodded, "Maybe they're a new start-up band? Survivors from Ganar's empire going with the trade-winds?"

I shook my head. "I don't think so: that… _Pyke_ … seemed too genuinely sincere in his hatred of krogan. I doubt he was the type to take orders from one, God-Emperor or no. Zaen's branch, maybe."

She hummed quietly, but otherwise fell silent as we returned to our camp.

A few hours later, I was running through a systems-check of my gauntlets and armor systems, casting an eye around to confirm that everyone was in place. Voya was absent, sequestered in a sniping perch along with a pair of Volern's sharpshooters, but the remainder of the marines seemed ready to go. Even the wounded woman didn't seem overly bothered by her leg, which boded well if we had to move quickly.

"Lorde," Volern's voice spoke softly into his communicator. "Tell Rasheed if he wants to keep his upper body intact, to hide himself better. I don't have time to hold everyone's spirits-damned hands on this one."

There was a brief scuffle in the bushes on the ridge below us, but the Batarian's head and shoulders disappeared from view, his camouflage cloak rippling a little before once more concealing him. They weren't anywhere as good as full active systems, a sharp eye could easily note the outline and parts of the body the cloth didn't cover, but it was far better than nothing. After the mess on Novgorod, they'd become standard issue for marine away parties, much to the Administration Branch's financial irritation.

"Apologies, sir," The wounded woman, Lorde apparently, answered. "I hit him on the ass for you."

I snorted quietly along with a dozen other voices, the poor Batarian man probably wouldn't live that one down for quite a while. "Shouldn't be long now, final checks."

" _Assuming the vorcha was actually capable of telling time, along with talking_ ," Voya snipped on our private line. " _Or else this is going to be a colossal waste of time."_

"So long as he knows how to attack in a general direction, that's all we need," I answered back. "On time or not matters less."

Voya's response was cut off by a flare going off in the distance, brilliant flashes of fire been seen just before the _cracking_ of distant gunfire could be heard.

"Minute early." I noted. There was a snort from the Quarian before we resumed radio silence.

Several minutes passed, with multiple explosions and distant roars being seen and heard, albeit muted somewhat on account of the distance. Whatever Pyke and his Irregulars were doing, they seemed to have gotten Salamul's full attention, which, as I'd noted, suited our purposes just fine.

" _I've got movement_ ," Volern said in a low tone after another long while. " _Three l_ _arge figures, looks like Krogan_."

 _I supposed i_ t had been too much to hope that Salamul would keep all of his troops to fight the Vorcha attackers, but three of them was hardly anything to worry over. The first Krogan came around the corner, rifle up and scanning the path ahead of him. The helmet scanned left, then right, no doubt looking for heat signatures, something that our armor should help mask. Also, the sandstone canyon would further throw off his sensors, the rocks absorbing and retaining heat from the twin suns for eighteen of the planet's twenty-seven-hour day.

Two more of the massive aliens joined him, with their weapons drawn. The first waved them on, covering their approach. They rumbled ahead, much less careful than their compatriot. Then five smaller figures came around the corner in a close formation: two in front of and two behind the central figure.

 _Zymandis and bodyguards._

The Hanar didn't have any weapons as far as my helmet could see, but I wouldn't count on him being easy to take down. Most species didn't appoint Admirals who were stupid or weak, and paranoia was rarely a disadvantageous thing in my experience. The little party continued moving on, though it wasn't until that the leaders reached the appropriate position that I tapped my comms twice, giving Voya the signal.

A massive explosion sent the two scouting Krogan flying backward, and the _crack-whine_ of two Kishok rifles corresponded with the third Krogan's collapse; the first shot taking down his shields, and the second going through his head.

For their part, Zymandis' cadre had responded with commendable action and decisiveness, the Asari in front throwing up a barrier as they started to move back around the corner towards cover, the Batarians and Drell laying down a decent cover-fire pattern for having few targets to shoot at. That changed as the remainder of the squad opened fire, carbines barking away as they sent metal down-range, revealing themselves through their muzzle flashes.

For my part I was content to remain in place, my personal rifle silent as I observed the engagement.

The bodyguards had already shifted themselves, one of the Drell forcing their Hanar charge into cover, the Asari visibly laboring to maintain a barrier capable of blocking the heavy impacts. Their plan seemed obvious as the other Drell scattered into the best positions they could find; those three would hold us off as long as they could, giving the Asari and final guard time to try and get Zymandis away through the forest opposite.

Not a good plan, but likely the best they could come up with given their situation and position.

That the dozen of us on the hill were a mere third of our available forces, however, rather ended any such flight before it could begin.

There was a blinding flash of white light and then the unmistakable _crack_ of a nullifier, and the blue-black barrier flickered and went out in time with the Asari guard yelping in shock. That was immediately followed by a good six or seven additional grenades, all flash-bangs, then went off in rapid sequence.

When my visor depolarized, I saw the second squad advancing at a sprint, closing on the small party while the third squad split into its component half-squads, each one taking a side of the road to complete the encirclement. Two of the Drell were down, probably concussed from being too close to the grenades, but the other two were still upright and ready to fight.

One managed to deploy some kind of omni-spear, only to have the weapon batted aside by a Batarian war-gauntlet as the trooper closed to melee range. The far more lithe alien twirled aside from a punch that would have caved his skull in, dodged a Turian attempting to bayonet him, then lost most of his head when Voya fired from her perch.

The other didn't even manage that much, simply being mobbed and then executed by the marines before he could do more than fire a handful of rounds that skipped off heavy armor, his prone counterparts suffering the same matter-of-fact fates.

That just left the Asari and the Hanar. The former had grabbed the latter, then stumbled back as Olympie struck her in a biotic charge, but the maiden's youth showed when she tried to use her sword rather than having kept her rifle up and ready to shoot. The older mercenary bent backwards at the waist, the blue-white flare of the blade whipping over her curved form, then drove both of her legs right into the Eclipse girl's skull as she completed the back-flip.

Proving that she was the brains of the operation, she used the momentum to slide into a crouch, and then threw herself at Olympie in a flying tackle. The maiden cursed as the two hit the ground, but gamely kept her grip on her sword as the two rolled to a stop, finding themselves at each others' mercy. The humming, eezo-laced blade was pressed against the merc's throat, while a pistol was being jabbed into Olympie's own windpipe.

" _Oh I like her."_ Voya's voice was low, edging towards excited. " _Let me kill her."_

Rather than answer her, I rose from my place as the engagement ceased, noting a few marines grabbing the stunned Hanar and forcing its floating body onto the ground. "If my intelligence is correct, you're Lila T'Goni."

The Asari's helmet didn't move from where it was focused on Olympie, but the steady voice of a matron replied, "Blades... didn't think you did this kind of work."

"Normally don't." I agreed, carefully making my way down the hill, marines following. "Sederis convinced me."

She was silent for a few moments. "I see. What are my options?"

"Death by gunshot." I offered as another marine pulled out a nullifier and dropped it, the effect making both Asari wince a little. "Flight into the forest, probably followed by death by blade when my Trophy Taker hunts you down... or, I suppose, employment."

Voya's long groan made me smile a little, even as the merc flexed a few fingers around her pistol. "I'm already under contract."

I snorted. "Zymandis is to be taken alive to the... _being_ acting as the Hanar's new prophet. You really want to go with him?"

From her shudder, she wanted no such thing, and it made me wonder just how much she knew about the so-called Seneschal. "Your word that you won't kill me?"

"Given." I replied.

She hesitated for a long breath, then carefully moved her pistol away from Olympie's throat. The maiden needed no urging to lower her sword in turn, and a few moments later they were both upright. T'Goni dropped her pistol, which Volern took, but seemed surprised when he waved off her attempt to start removing her armor.

Zymandis started to come around just in time for squad three's medic to jab a needle into his body, putting him right back under before he could start preaching, begging, or otherwise annoying us during his transport. No sooner had he fallen still once more than a volley of flares went up from the direction of the Krogan camp, drawing our attention.

"And the weird Vorcha killed all of the Krogan." Voya muttered. "No trophies, strange-assed _keshin,_ and two boring fights... Totally _not_ worth it."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **A fun nod to a fan favorite, and a glimpse of the infamous Blades in action in their element.**

 **And now it's time for a certain admiral to meet a certain Seneschal.**

* * *

Reviewer Responses:

BJ Hanssen – Well, quite a few people dead in this one.

Guest – I wouldn't be holding my breath waiting for an apology from Jona.

seabo76, ronnambi – We are dealing with a _VERY_ different individual without the boy from Manassas, Virginia.


	6. Prophet's Fury

**The Herald  
 _(Ko'le Seneschal)_**

 **Location** : _IPV Vengeance_ **,** First Land, Relic System, Eagle Nebula

* * *

 ** _This is not strategy,_** I insisted. **_This is little more than a gamble._**

 **Gambling is a crime, remember?**

The mirthless grunt conveyed what I thought of Beast's attempt at humor.

 ** _What I am saying is that this is a needless risk: we can bide our time…_**

 **And lose all chance of gaining the respect of the other powers of the galaxy, to say nothing of Time before the Reapers' main force returns.**

"Exalted One, we are exiting FTL." The voice interrupting our thoughts belonged to Sirena, the Drell captain of the _Vengeance_ , the ship we had selected as the flagship of our… fleet.

 **Mother above, what we are reduced to: to call this a fleet. And captained by _frog-lickers_ , no less.**

 ** _You_** ** _insisted on this plan. If you're going to spend the whole time complaining..._**

She continued, her sibilant tones easily audible in the quiet of my personal quarters. "We await your will."

I shook my head slightly, hoping to bring silence to the mental argument going on within my Mind-Plane. It was unlikely to work, it almost never had, but a part of me still held out hope that one day it would and that Beast and I would finally exist in blessed quiet.

"Lead on, captain," I said, rising from my chair and following the Drell out of the commander's cabin, directly onto the small main bridge. The layout of the Hanar-built cruiser _Vengeance_ seemed odd at first glance, compared to a standard Prothean Battle Cruiser, but took roughly the same pattern as a Hanar's body, with a series of tentacles spread out from a central command center, with Navigation, Shields, Weaponry, Communications, and other shipboard functions at each of the arms extending from it.

 **"All hands brace** ," came the voice of the automated system, a moment before there was a disorienting flash of blurring color, the view around _snapped_ back into vivid clarity. There were nineteen ships that exited FTL with us, each of them coming into harsh focus in their turn. Of these, the _Vengeance_ was by far the largest, yet even it was dwarfed by the two matching dreadnoughts on the other side of the asteroid belt.

 ** _The Virago and the Hira._**

 **Mother Above, what stupid names for ships.**

 ** _They are two of the greatest military heroes of the Hanar, Beast._**

The mental sneer was practically audible. **And we have the greatest _cock_ of the eunuchs' quarters.**

 ** _Ugh, Father Below, be silent._**

"Scan detects forty-eight vessels ahead, Herald." Another Drell sang out from his position. "The _Virago_ and the _Hira_ are both already bringing their barriers up."

 **Forty-eight to twenty. More than twice our numbers, and twice our –**

 ** _Yes, thank you Beast. Stasis did not rob me of my ability to count._**

"Thank you, captain," I said aloud, "Standby, and order the fleet to fall in behind us, Mora-Fish Pattern Nine."

The ships around us fell into formation, a long train behind the _Vengeance_ and the other lead vessels. If Oraka was going to open fire, then I wanted as few target profiles as possible for his gunners to train their weapons towards. As the train of ships snaked towards our destination, I could only imagine the scramble and the shouted orders on the ships opposite. Exactly that that scramble _resulted_ in, however, would spell whether our next move would be to make a hard burn for the relay through which we had just arrived or no.

"Herald," the Drell captain reported from beside one of the senor consoles. "Admiral Oraka is pulling his fleet to the outer belt."

"What is he thinking?" Tallaxis asked suspiciously, our yeoman having seemingly materialized out of thin air behind us, our own mental distractions no doubt aiding in his avoiding detection until now.

"He is framing the battle to take place in open space," Sirena explained, her trained captain's eyes squinting at the distant dots on the main viewscreen. "He is attempting to minimize civilian casualties with the cross-fire or misfires from the ships. Oraka is originally _from_ First Land, after all."

 ** _This one is smart_** **,** I mused thoughtfully. **_We must keep a close eye on her…_**

"The fool believes we are here to challenge him in open battle," Beast said aloud, "His superior numbers have made him believe himself safe. Move all ships, full impulse. Position Eighteen-Aught-Nine."

The ships I commanded made a hard burn, but not towards the retreat of the relay, but instead moving to take up position in front of the very stations from which Oraka had moved away from. Our only real advantage, the slow acceleration of the opposing dreadnoughts, was compounded when Oraka kept his smaller ships tight against their bulk.

 **The coward fears a trap.** Beast muttered within our mind, **We can use that fear.**

 ** _Agreed._**

As expected, all the Expectant Ships held their fire, for fear of endangering the civilian stations, though the fleet quickly began to shift in turn. The window for our plan would be very short, lasting only until Oraka could bring his fleet into a superior angle against my far smaller force.

"Uhhh-kay," Sirena said slowly. "Now what?"

"Send the following on all Expectant frequencies," I stated calmly. With a few screen-clicks, another Drell nodded to me from the communications arm. I took a deep breath before speaking: "This is Ko'le Seneschal to All Expectant Fleets: I am demanding your immediate and unconditional surrender. In response to in your continued rebellion against the Illuminated Primacy, and your abandonment of the Word of the Enkindlers, The _Vengeance_ is armed with a full complement of _Primus_ -class torpedoes. If you and your comrades do not surrender to us immediately, we will target the power production relays in orbit around Marchese and Ehde Stations."

The crew of the bridge snapped their heads towards us at our declaration. None of them needed to be told the consequences of a space-station's power relay going critical or taking a direct hit. Even one vented floor, and the entire oxygen of the station be sucked out by the vacuum of space within seconds, flash-freezing the occupants within almost instantly.

"They are heretics and Traitors to the Memory of the Enkindlers," I continued doggedly, Beast lending mocking scorn and derision to our voice. "From us, there can be no hesitation. For them, there can be no mercy. If you test me, Oraka: you will fail."

The transmission light flickered off, and a collective sigh was released from almost all present simultaneously. Silence reigned for several moments, until a red flashing light appeared on the same console.

"We are being hailed," Sirena explained, somewhat needlessly.

"Onscreen," I grunted.

The holographic figure of a Hanar appeared before me. This figure was scarred and one of the tentacles was missing from its left side, identifying it as the Admiral of the Fleet of Illumination even without the armor covering its torso, and the black silks draped across its body.

"What are you really up to, Demon?" Oraka almost spat, his translator being configured to communicate scorn of his own very well. "You expect this one to believe that one who claims to represent the magnanimity of the Enkindlers Is going to destroy a helpless station with _thousands_ of innocents, innocents who hold those same Enkindlers to heart?"

I simply blinked, and then nodded, once. "That's exactly what I'm going to do."

The Hanar flickered through several uncertain shades of aubergine, but its voice did not waver: "This one believes that you are bluffing; that your crew would refuse such a heretical order."

"Am I? Will they? Captain Olm, launch torpedo." There was a moment's hesitation as looks were exchanged between the Drell captain and her crew. Beast lent his roar when none moved, " _Now_!"

I spoke through more than mere words. Through the Mind-Share, I sent out a _feeling_ of resolve, of cold-hearted rage and determination. Whether it was the sight of our eyes glowing white, or our odd-colored biotics shimmered in the air around us, Sirena nodded once to her crew.

 **Our** **crew.**

 ** _In name only, for now, Beast._**

The Hanar admiral flickered in disbelief as the torpedo streaked out towards the massive solar relay floating just above Marchese Station. The silent detonation seemed insignificant, but precluded another _massive_ explosion, as the power station rained debris upon the now-unshielded station. Several ragged holes were torn into the side of the structure, and there were gusts of what seemed to be vapor as the oxygen and life-support of the station were vented into space.

"Target destroyed," The Asari at the sensor station reported, her voice subdued. "Life readings show no survivors."

 ** _Eight thousand souls, gone unto the Father._**

 **To save billions, Ko'le.**

Now Oraka was flashing horror and indignation, his translator making his voice screech. "Do you realize what you've done?!"

"I've only just begun," Beast snarled, "There are eighteen other stations surrounding this planet, I believe."

"You're talking about tens of thousands of lives!" Oraka gasped.

Beast shrugged a broad shoulder, "More than a hundred thousand, but yes _,_ you're roughly correct." Beast confirmed.

Oraka continued, still obviously aghast. "You would condemn them for the actions of others?"

I gripped the edges of the command chair, my own very real anger shoving Beast aside. "When you lifted arms against me, _you_ condemned them, Admiral Oraka! _You_ made yourself and the colony of First Land threats to the Illuminated Primacy, and today I am going to Eliminate. That. Threat!"

"The citizens of those stations did not rebel against you!" Oraka protested, "They are innocent! They believe-"

" _You_ should have thought of that before you made this planet the stronghold of the Expectant!" I waved dismissively. "Weapons, Target Ehde Station!"

Oraka then turned his attention towards the figures behind me. "Tallaxis, can't you see what is happening? He is betraying everything the Beloved have _ever_ believed about the Enkindlers!"

Tallaxis only beamed his certainty and resolve, intoning in reply, "You _betrayed_ the Enkindlers, Admiral."

"And _you_ are betraying them, right now!" Oraka replied, the passion of his words causing his voice to rise still higher, "And the tragic thing is, you don't even realize it!"

"Captain Sirena," I ordered, " _Shut that thing up_ , and prepare to launch a full volley!"

" _Wait_!"

I paused dramatically, waiting _much longer_ than necessary before turning back to face the Hanar admiral.

"If you cease your attack…" Oraka began shakily, "This one will withdraw all Expectant forces from this system."

" _Not good enough._ " Beast hissed.

A flicker of anger went across the Hanar's aura. "Then I will attack and massacre you where you stand!"

"Perhaps," I nodded flippantly, even as I felt Sirena and Tallaxis shift uncomfortably behind me, "But not before eighteen _Primus-_ class torpedoes find their marks. And you will be the empty victor over a graveyard of the dead."

Hesitation, fear, and dread crept across the aura, cracking the resolve that the admiral attempted to project. When he managed to find his voice, it had finally lowered, his tentacles curling in anger and helplessness. "Who are you, to play god over our people?"

" _Who am I_?" Beast mimicked, fully taking control now. "I am the only fucking being this universe that gives a _shit_ whether your people live or die. From the moment I arose, I have done nothing but work for the people of this cycle's highest good. Who am I, that I play god? I am the herald of the enkindlers. I am the Seneschal of the Prothean Empire. I was born in war, and lived and breathed destruction and death upon a dozen worlds whose names your people have long forgotten! I have faced horrors that you could not dream up in your worst nightmares."

I was on my feet now, biotics crackling with the force of my words. " _You_ are the ones who have held the word of the Enkindlers in your genetic memories for the entirety of your recorded history. Your kind had fifty millennia to prepare for the Cursed Ones' return, and instead you sat back, _fat_ and _bloated_ in your superiority. Since you were not willing to accept the mantle of responsibility for the preservation and Rule of this cycle, I am here to _take_ it from you and relieve you from its burden."

Sucking in a breath, hearing the dead silence around me, I continued, "I am the voice of the throne that once ruled this galaxy, the only barrier between you and the great void, the hand of the Elder Race. And you and your kind will _bow_ to the likes of me!"

Oraka did not respond at once, his tentacles still curling and uncurling as he seemed to struggle to process the simple truths that I laid out before him. With an effort, I cut off Beast and shoved him away, returning my attention to the Drell and Hanar beside us as I forced myself to sit before the moment of decision.

" _Now._ " I growled, breathing sharply. "Commander. Fire _all_ of the torpedoes."

" _No_! Wait!" Oraka flickered once, twice, and then turned a dark sheen of purple. When he spoke again his voice was utterly despondent, defeated. "Lower... lower the shields. This one... yields... to the Herald of the Enkindlers."

I bowed my head in acknowledgement, the motion stiff, Beast's anger anything but dissuaded. "Tallaxis, take a shuttle, and send commanders to each of the Expectant Ships. _Temporarily_ relieve their captains of command, and bring them here to the _Vengeance_."

Even as I spoke, I made sure to hold Oraka in my gaze, keeping my focus entirely upon him. "All ships are to hold position. Any movement towards the relay, or to activate their impulse engines will be treated as an act of aggression and will be the death sentence of First Land."

Oraka and Tallaxis made identical gestures of obeisance, though only the former spoke. "Your will... Herald."

The communique ended, and I stood slowly to my feet. The mixture of mercenary and Primacy crewmen of the _Vengeance_ were all staring at me with something mixed between admiration and disbelief. The Drells' expressions were stamped with awe and reverence... though Sirena remained impassive in both expression and aura.

 ** _Not a bad beginning. These vessels will serve as the foundation for our Army._**

 **A first stone in that foundation, perhaps.**

I nodded in acknowledgement, my wrist gauntlets flaring to life and the interface spikes deploying.

 **Time to go gain a few more devout followers _,_** Beast crowed as we made our way to the hangar bay. **This is going to be _fun…_**

* * *

 ***SOME TIME LATER***

 **Location:** Presrop, Century System, Hawking Eta

* * *

Whoever had retrofitted the turrets onto the compound had evidently anticipated having to return fire against cruisers or large space-faring vessels, likely relying on strike craft and other small warships to defend the closer approaches. However, with such craft occupied by my own assets, shuttles had flown in at just above ground-level, the old weapons unable to depress low enough to target us.

A sniper rifle cracked, bouncing harmlessly from the barrier I had erected in front of the boarding party I led. Walking slowly forward, I widened the green field to cover the marines exiting the shuttle.

 **Finally.**

With a _roar_ of sheer and unadulterated pleasure, Beast threw the barrier forwards, the wall rippling into a rolling maelstrom of destruction and chaos. Acting on sheer instinct, my arm came up and fired at a figure coming out from behind a nearby pile of rubble. The Asari grimaced at the stump that had been her arm, right before the grenade she had been holding went off in her severed hand. The _crack_ of a biotic nullifier was unmistakable, but at this range, it was also largely ineffective.

 ** _Grenades that sever the connection to the Soul-Command. Something we never had in our cycle... that is a very real danger to us._**

To my utter lack of surprise, Beast was largely ignoring my comments, focusing instead on the fight at hand. A quick Stream-Step brought us behind the trench that stood in our path. Five turian figures, clad in makeshift armor, were attempting to lay down a field of cover fire.

The first indication the primitive fools had that anything was wrong was when one was suddenly hurdling through the air at twenty-five feet. The second startled trooper whirled to find the source of his comrade's scream, only for that comrade to suddenly become the bludgeon that smashed the two of them into unconsciousness and probable death by internal hemorrhaging. The third was quicker than the rest, arming a grenade and tossing it at my feet in one fluid motion.

 ** _Quicker… not smarter._**

With a flash of biotic power, the grenade went flying back _into_ the trench from which it had come. There was a strangled cry of surprise and alarm before the explosion killed the rest. Turning from the now-empty trench, I strode towards the nearby building, my barrier easily withstanding the scattered gunfire sent in our direction with no great degree of power or accuracy. I brought my Master-Tool up, the wrist-mounted communicator contacting the ships in orbit.

Oraka's face appeared in the viewscreen, his words quick. " _Exalted One?"_

"Admiral," I stated calmly, even while sending a warp orb impacting with a nearby enemy's face. "We have reached the generator. The shield will be down in moments, and you may begin your bombardment of the base."

 _"Acknowledged_." He flashed. _"By your will, Herald."_

 ** _Keeping the same commanders and captains of the ships will aid in the transition_** **,** I mused. **_Their crews trust them, and will follow where they lead._**

 **Not to mention they will serve as living examples of the fates of would-be traitors,** Beast crowed.

Reaching over, I stretched out a grasped a nearby pylon from the rubble. Lifting it high, I sent it forward like an arrow from a bow. The sheet-metal wall was no match for the reinforced concrete missile, and neither were the Mark-3 power generators contained within.

The massive explosion incinerated most of the defenders still huddled around the building, and the shockwave sent back most my own strike force flat on their backs. Even I, knowing exactly what was coming, had only just _barely_ gotten a barrier up in time, and had been hard-pressed to keep my feet. In the distance now, several explosions could be seen as massive rounds slammed into the now-defenseless compound from orbit. It was only a few minutes before I received another message indicating that the pirates, or at least those few who remained, had surrendered.

 **Hooray,** Beast muttered as the fighting ended. **We have won ourselves another desolate compound, and defeated another group of no-name smugglers and pirates. We are conquerors indeed.**

 ** _There will battles enough in the coming days._**

 ** _I await those days with bated breath, then._**

A few hours later, the Drell captain and I were making our way down the hall of the _Virago,_ having chosen my new flagship as it was the newer of the dreadnoughts _,_ Beast still flush with the satisfaction of what had just transpired.

I was far more focused on Sirena Olm, on the other hand, as my... second yeoman, advisor, whichever title she wished, looked…angry.

"You have something on your mind, captain," I stated, not needing to read the burning red aura she emanated. Not that her eyes could see into that spectrum, but it nearly matched the new armor coloration of scarlet and accented gold. Overall, it made a striking contrast against her pale blue skin, something that did not escape Beast's notice as we made our way towards our next objective.

 **She is not human... but she is striking in her own way...**

 ** _No, Beast._**

At my question, she paused and turned to look at me. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Flattery is merely a knife to stab your superiors in the back," I quoted.

"You're needlessly reckless with your personal safety." She replied flatly.

Beast's opinion of the woman changed instantly, as was so often the case.

 **How dare she-**

 ** _We have enough people bending over backwards for us, Beast. Let her be honest._**

"Elaborate," I replied, folding my hands behind my back, trying to assume an inviting posture while simultaneously gripping my hands together to counteract Beast's rage.

"In the past two days, you have sent the fleet against _nine_ different targets on the outer edge of the Traverse," Sirena continued, her own arms crossing her armored chest, "And every time, you have taken tasks that could have easily been delegated to others. My marines were capable of taking the shield generator out. But instead you charged headlong into danger, leaving them far behind."

"Your men are undisciplined," Beast snarled in reply, "They slow us down."

"Hearing your orders _in their heads_ rather than over the radios may be somewhat disorienting to the uninitiated," The Drell answered, evidently undaunted. "They _seem_ undisciplined and slow you because they are _unsettled_ by such things and wish to avoid you."

"In my cycle…"

"They are _not_ of your cycle." She replied sharply. "Warlords who throw themselves into combat have the tendency to _die_ either from the front or from the back. History is filled with such fools."

When I widened my eyes slightly at her boldness, her own blinked rapidly before she exhaled and bowed her head. "Your pardon, Exalted One… I meant no disresp-"

"You speak your mind," I cut her off, keeping Beast's simmering anger down. "And offer truth where others offer what they believe I _wish_ to hear."

"I am committed to serve," Sirena answered simply. "But I do not serve blindly."

"Then I will make another query," I continued, turning as we resumed our walk.

 **I still say this is a waste of time,** Beast offered **,** still stewing from the female's comments. **We have regained the Fleet. Why come to these rabble, hat in hand?**

 ** _We need warriors, and you were the one who said that to turn the Hanar into a warlike people will take time we do not have._**

 **This** **is hardly what I meant.**

"You can vouch for each of these… commanders?" I asked, ignoring the further mental mutters. "Once committed, can their loyalty can be counted upon?"

She paused and looked at me somewhat strangely, the fear of the previous encounter mixed with slight confusion and hesitation.

"Their loyalty? No, absolutely not." Sirena answered, flushing a darker blue on her cheeks. "But I can vouch for their being the biggest sons of _bekwa_ I could find on such short notice. Aria owns the loyalty of most of the big mercenary bands, so my options were... limited."

Her eyes dilated as she finished speaking, and her left hand twitching in jerky movements. Likely her endemic memory at work, her mind reliving those times she had worked with them in the past.

"Understood," I replied, electing to not comment upon the display. "Your honesty is appreciated. Carry on, Captain."

The female opened the door to reveal a full Communications Array. Holographic images of several figures reclined or stood uniform distances apart, each of the Pirates calling in from their own secret locations, the largest of these being the one-eyed Krogan leaning against a wall.

Nakmor Syed was a leader of a small group of Krogan once loyal to Ganar Yulaz, the so-called 'God-Emperor' of the Krogan.

 **They were much smaller in our cycle... though at least the Salarian over there isn't eating flies...**

The Salarian in question was Vashon Chaz, I recalled, the long conversation with Tallaxis and Oolon replaying in my memory. He was a former Special Task Group agent, the Salarians' version of the Prothean Oath-Keepers, apparently. His record had been impressively commendable... until he had broken with his superiors in the name of opportunistic profit.

 **A traitor to his own people** , scoffed Beast.

 ** _A pragmatist,_** I clarified. **_Evidently the Salarians also have evolved significantly since our cycle._**

To the left were the holographic images of the three Batarians. Two males, Kyron ul Culorahk and Eshun ul Norral, along with a female, Breqa ul Wassitok. All three had apparently been on the losing side of the most recent civil war in the Hegemony and were therefore seeking 'other avenues' for the remnants of their forces.

 **Defeated, broken exiles.**

 ** _Battle-hardened warriors whose ambition has been tempered by defeat._**

Most impressive, at least to our eyes, was the turian in full armor, standing at rigid attention.

 ** _Flavius Maldus, once a Hierarchy privateer, he had been disavowed after a raid gone wrong._**

According to Sirena he had the largest and most professional fleet of the lot, though far smaller than other forces Aria or Sederis had under their control.

 **There is at least one proper warrior here, at least.**

Beast gave his grumbling approval as we entered, my Drell subordinate taking the lead.

"Hello everyone," Sirena said in greeting, giving the room a stiff little bow of getting. "My thanks for you all agreeing to meet with me."

"Just want to make one thing clear for this shiny _pyjak_ here, I'm here because _you_ called me, Sirena." The Krogan growled, pushing off whatever wall he was reclining against and waking forward, his broad features turning to glare at me suspiciously. "She has proven her worth in battle as a leader and a warrior. _You… You_ I know nothing about."

I opted to merely nod, biting back a thousand suggestions made by Beast as how we could make him die extraordinarily painfully. He had made a fair point: No one here knew anything about us, or what we were capable of. My title meant nothing to do them, and their low opinions of my Hanar followers ran close enough to my own.

"I can vouch for the Seneschal's prowess in battle and war, Syed," Sirena interjected. "I have seen both first-hand."

"So, he is an impressive warrior?" Eshun snorted, the scarred Batarian turning his chest to glare at me with all four eyes. "By the Pillars, why should _we_ care? Ganar was a great warrior, it brought him nothing but death."

Nakmor growled, but was cut off when the Turian interjected himself into the conversation, "More to the point, Seneschal, she has made many promises in your name."

"She has promised nothing I did not authorize her to, Capt. Maldus," I answered, channeling _trustworthiness_ and _comradery_ into the tone of my words, trying to remember all the lessons on Word-Crafting the Avatar of Wisdom had taught us

Breqa sucked nosily on what appeared to be a pipe, smoke billowing around her face and exiting her nostrils. "This offer is serious, then?"

I nodded again in reply. "Things have been set in motion to alter the very fabric of this galaxy: A thing is about to happen, which has not happened since the Prothean Empire had ruled for an age."

"And what is that?" Culorahk asked, his head going forwards slightly and to the right.

"The Hanar are going to wake up, and discover that they are strong," I answered, matching his gesture.

Maldus was the only one who managed _not_ to betray any kind of skepticism at the concept of a militarized Illuminated Primacy; Eshun openly sneered while the others shook their heads or glanced at each other.

"In answer to your question, Wassitok," I continued doggedly, "Yes, I offer you full protection from previous offenses, from either your former rivals, or from Hegemony prosecution."

"You must be in dire straits indeed," Nakmor rumbled.

"I am not so great a fool to believe that money can _buy_ valor, Nakmor Syed," I retorted, Beast lending heat and anger to my reply. "Otherwise I could find _thousands_ of your homeless and neutered kin that would stumble over themselves to draw from the Primacy's war-chest."

The Krogan growled at the reference to his people's political and biological shackling, and I noted that all three of the Batarians drew some level of amusement from his futile anger.

"But instead, I had Captain Olm contact those she believed were _courageous_ enough to know an opportunity when they saw it." I resumed.

"Let us cut through the gristle of words and go straight to bone," Maldus spoke as though he was interrupting, rather than saving me the bother of having to try and come up with further pointless flattery. "You are offering to hire our ships and what forces we have under our command."

"Are we talking combat bonuses, then?" Culorahk stated, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"There are a great many wildcat colonies in the outer Terminus," I continued, ignoring the Batarian's interruptions, "and a great many _ha'diq_ who do not recognize the new Hegemon on Khar'shan."

"Ahh," He nodded as though he understood, "We raid them while they're weak, then?"

"We _take_ them while they're weak," I answered. "And we establish permanent beachhead and garrisons within the territory."

Blinks and uneasy looks were exchanged between most of the pirates in the room, with Eshun all but sneering at me. "The Traverse may be open, but the core-ward Terminus belongs to Aria. Every pirate who lives there openly swears allegiance to the Black Queen, or exists by her sufferance."

There was a rumble of agreement from the others, but Nakmor growled in support. "She's weak. Sederis and that bitch T'Ravt have proven as much."

"Aria's empire is a castle of sand: imposing from the outside, but built upon shaky foundations," I nodded in agreement to the Krogan's point. "She relies upon the lesser warlords kowtowing to her strength and numbers, those same numbers made up of other subservient warlords, all fearful of one another. Such a system only works when _everyone_ participates. She has ruled Omega long enough for everyone to merely _accept_ her as the least undesirable alternative. Our entrance into the Terminus proper will _alter_ that blind acceptance. Through force, coercion, or elimination, those same forces will be brought under our control. And each one that joins us weakens Aria's domains even more. Omega is a mighty station, no doubt, but she does not have the numbers or resources to fight _all_ her minions and hirelings. As more and more desert her banner, the rest of Aria's thralls will come crawling to us, begging for our protection."

Nakmor Syed was grinning openly now, but the rest of the room seemed unconvinced, or at the very least, _wary_. Once more it was Eshun who spoke, his needle teeth on full display as he continued to sneer. " _That_ is your master plan? You think you are the first to try and break Aria's power, to cast her down?"

"None of those who tried before were Prothean." I growled in reply, Beast's anger at this primitive's tones increasing. "None had an organized power behind them."

"The Trinity did." He countered. "It aided them not at all when Aria, when Sederis, when Weyrloc came for them."

"Eshun." Culorahk spoke, his voice hard. "Let him propose what he offers before we dismiss his plan."

I regarded Eshun further, but nodded slightly and explained. "What I offer is a full retrofit of your ships and gear with the full might and knowledge of the Prothean Empire, in exchange for your assistance in these campaigns. The hoarded and closely-guarded secrets of the Illuminated Primacy will be at your fingertips, and behind every pull of the trigger."

There was still a heavy air of caution and skepticism in the air, particularly amongst the Batarians who exchanged unreadable glances.

 ** _Going to have to make it plain for them, then._**

 **Let me know if you need me to draw them a picture…**

"New campaigns mean new territory for the Illuminated Primacy," I stated evenly. "And these new territories will be in need of… shall we call them _Regional Governors_? These will need to be warriors of Strength and Power, who answer _only_ to the Seneschal of Kahje."

Nods of understanding passed around the room, and Nakmor Syed actually chuckled. Flavius, on the other hand, merely cocked his head sideways, his mandibles moving, but the turian said nothing.

"What I'm offering you, today, right now, is a place at the table where very soon, the galaxy will come begging for scraps."

"So long as we understand that it is _your_ table," Vashon Chaz interjected, the Salarian speaking for the first time.

I opened my hands slowly. "Of course, Commander, you can always choose the alternative, which is to continue running and hiding in asteroids and jungle planets in the Traverse, hoping against encounters with STG, Spectre, or SIU death-squads."

The tone and expressions in the room turned more serious as those outcomes were weighed and considered.

"You have no territory for yourselves," I stated, "And the prospects of procuring any on your own within the Terminus are slim, and in the Traverse or the Dark Rim are… even slimmer. I speak only in truth, not in petty insults or slanders.""

"You underestimate us," Eshun hissed, "You demand subservience in exchange for technological trinkets, propose we harass the most powerful warlord in the galaxy: an Asari who would skin us all alive. I will not waste my time further."

His image dissolved a moment later, the others staring at the gap before turning their attention to me. I sneered dismissively at the empty air, making my confidence utterly clear. "Do any of you wish to join him? Wish to slink back into the Traverse and grasp at what scraps your so-called betters offer? Or will you join with _me_ , and carve for yourselves a new destiny?"

Shifting my position, I paced closer to Sirena, gesturing at the uniform bearing the symbol of the Illuminated Primacy. "I offer you a place within this…Kratocracy, where I intend to restore the natural order of the galaxy: that the strong will rule and the weak will follow."

 _That_ struck an agreeable chord with the Krogan, and both Batarians were nodding in thoughtful contemplation. Vashon Chaz and Flavius Maldus, on the other hand, were still betraying no expressions or emotions. I opened my hands, throwing my arms wide.

"Join me, and together, we will redraw the very face of the galaxy, reforged and reborn in the fires of our wrath and valor."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Prothean Battle-Tactics and Diplomacy in action, folks. Here we see Ko'le gathering his army, but without the mitigating influence of Kevin. The galaxy seen through his eyes is a dark and broken place, just waiting for someone like himself to come along and restore the "natural order" of the Prothean Empire.**

* * *

Review Responses:

seabo76, BJ Hanssen – Glad you guys liked Pyke! It was just too much fun to see the AR-Kean's (and Voya's) reaction to the 1st Heshtok Irregulars and everyone's favorite vorcha.

* * *

Keep the reviews and PMs coming, friends!

ee-RAH!

-Tusken1602


	7. A Heated Exchange

**The Silver Blade**

 ** _(Cieran Kean)_**

 **Location:** SBS _Shokari_ , In orbit above Venture, Iera System, Shadow Sea

* * *

Captain Idia B'Anta sighed as another alert came across her omni-tool, flicking the file to a tablet resting on the communications room's main table. "I'm glad we got away from that rock when we did. Have you seen this Director? The situation has gone straight to the Deeps."

I hummed noncommittally but accepted the datapad when she passed it to me. Evidently the fool in command of the blockade, Hetlek ul... something or another, had sent a message to Aria to take personal credit for the death of Jorgal Salamul. His ramblings on his own greatness had been cut off quite literally by a _very_ familiar-looking armored Vorcha. The hapless Batarian had been seized by other Vorcha and dragged out of view, with the panicked screams that bled over the background of the call suggested what was happening to the stupid _keshin_ off-screen.

 _"With the sudden vacancy in the unified command structure here, marm, I am assuming command of the bally offensive here on-planet,"_ Pyke droned in his bastardization of Pirate-English, while Idia's eyes widened as she watched the recording. " _As per the Articles of Employment, section 3, subsection A, I will defer Class-S decisions to your further instructions, Lady Aria._

 _Rark, End transmission."_

"Well, that's…" The ship's captain began, struggling to find the appropriate phrase.

"Unnerving?" Berra Olympie offered. "You're telling me... goddess but it was awful to listen to in person."

Idia pursed her lips glancing at the tablet as I set it aside. "If they _are_ under contract with Aria... she's definitely throwing out a lot of harpoons right now, hoping that one strikes true."

"Nothing we didn't already guess." I sighed, "What's the haul from Rift? T'Goni?"

The third Asari present was lurking near the edge of the room, already having darkened her armor and having added the down-turned warp-sword that was our icon. She pursed her lips in thought before replying, "They made more progress on Rift that most of the other groups, at least in terms of kills. Three lesser Krogan war-leaders, and of those, Salamul is the largest name he's taken down. I didn't hear any reports of him managing territory however."

"That will be... interesting." Olympie murmured before frowning, hesitantly adding, "That doctor though... Lemrin, could he be STG?"

I rolled a shoulder in an Asari shrug, "Probably is. Any planet that close to the Union, the Salarians would want to keep a very close eye on who is going to end up on top. Bigger problem is that we've never even _heard_ of those crazy fucks, and I'd really rather not run into them again if possible."

"Agreed." Olympie sighed, "Still, my father approved of everything that has happened so far. Your payment began at the first of this month, post-dated."

"I'm sure Ayle and Ven will be thrilled." I replied, making the omission of my own happiness clear. The maiden gave me a little smile, clearly having picked up on such, and I continued, "She say anything else?"

"She looks forward to... _negotiating_ with you on access to the Prothean diagrams," She offered. "Your group is probably the ones with the most knowledge on Prothean technology, so I don't think it will take much work on your part."

" _Collector_ tech," I clarified. "Something that the... _Seneschal..._ was very careful to point out."

Lila T'Gona shuddered in the background, something I noticed rather quickly. "You know about him? What can you give me before he shows?"

She looked reluctant, but gave an Asari shrug. "Just stories, mostly, stuff you scare the maidens with, that kind of thing."

"Like what?" I pressed, though I was careful to keep my voice even. "We know exactly nothing ourselves, other than that he's an egocentric asshole even by our standards."

The former independent contractor snorted softly, "Well, Zymandis said that he… _consumed_ the souls of the Faithful. I know it sounds like the usual Hanar religious shark-shit, but he is genuinely and truly _terrified_ and _horrified_ of this… Seneschal."

Before I could do more than frown and continue to question her, Idia's Omni-tool blinked, and she pulled up the image of the Batarian First Officer of the _Shokari_. "Yes?"

" _We've got a signature coming out of FTL_ ," he stated, his head inclining to the left in deference. " _Just the one, as arranged_."

"Set a wide-motion net sweep of the belt," Idia ordered. "I don't want any surprises or uninvited guests to this party. Ping Executive Commander T'Voth as well, inform her that we're about to get started."

His image bowed. " _It will be done."_

"Right... Let's just get this shit done," Idia muttered, as she powered down her Omni-tool. "I don't like the idea of those… _things_ on my ship. _Again_."

I shrugged once more. "Our other option was _his_ ship."

The grunt I received in reply communicated that she had fully understood why the transaction was taking place on the _Shokari_ , but she didn't have to _like_ it. The image of the ship flickered onto the holo-projector as it rotated around, engines fluttering as it shifted to the prescribed distance. That gave our sensors plenty of time to analyze the vessel, Idia frowning as she leaned in a bit.

"I know that ship," She murmured. "That's the _Vengeance_ , Sirena Olm's cruiser. Drell pirate, a good one too... mostly stuck to raiding Hegemony colonies. Must have gotten religion."

"She from the Primacy originally?" I asked. It was a safe bet, most Drell were, and I wasn't surprised when Idia nodded. We fell silent once more as a shuttle icon appeared from the other vessel, its IFF reading as a heavy Hanar model, and quickly began moving in our direction. The quiet remained until the marker reached our own hangar bay, and Voya reported that our guests were disembarking.

"What did you think of First Land?" Idia asked as we waited for the Seneschal to arrive.

"Not much." My right shoulder might have twitched slightly. "Not a dangerous pirate group by any means, and for all the Seneschal's prattling on the difference between Protheans and Collectors... their tactics seemed the same."

She snorted. "And his little proclamation?"

I brought a hand up to stroke my beard thoughtfully, speaking slowly as I considered the matter. "Couple of years ago, it wouldn't have meant anything, maybe a chance that a few old gangsters could retire safely on an ocean world. But with the Traverse such a goddess-damned mess and the big three consolidating in the Terminus..."

"There's room to expand." T'Goni murmured, speaking up once again. "Especially since all the pirate groups that fled from Ganar's war are at each others throats, and Ul Tirravan is too busy arguing with the Hegemon over colonies to really expand."

"It's getting awfully crowded in the Traverse. Dangerous for smaller groups especially." The Captain exhaled, glancing at the image of the former pirate ship. "Evidently enough for even successful fish to find a shark to follow."

"Assuming," I replied, "That it _is_ a shark at all."

The three Asari made noises or gestures of agreement before settling in to wait. It didn't take long, a few minutes perhaps, and then Voya opened the room's doors to reveal a veritable entourage behind her. Golden armor glinted as the Seneschal's blocky frame strode into the room as if he owned it, with a massive one-eyed Krogan hovering over his shoulder. Three more of the massive aliens were visible in the hallway, along with a pair of Turians, a pair of Hanar, and what were probably a pair of Drell. Though all of their armor was of different models and makes, the coloration was uniformly red with gold accents, with the symbol of the Illuminated Primacy in gold on their chest plates.

And naturally accompanying them in turn was a full marine squad, Volern's towering body in the lead as they ensured that only the single Krogan along with one of the Drell was allowed to enter the room proper. Voya quickly shifted around, ignoring the Seneschal entirely in favor of taking up a position behind me, while T'Goni visibly tensed from her place at the bulkhead.

For his part our guest retracted his helmet almost at once, his eyes shifting to look around the room as he stopped about a meter from the table. "Where is he?"

"Payment first." Olympie replied evenly, rising to her feet.

A scoff escaped the Neanderthal. " _Child_ … you could have grabbed _any_ Hanar in your expedition. I need to see that it _is_ who I sent you after, before I hand over the technology of my cycle over to you."

His arm came up slowly as he spoke, some version of an Omni-Tool flaring to life, and the same image of the Prothean Particle Rifle hovering. The maiden's eyes flickered to me, and she gave a brief and reluctant nod. In response, I merely pressed a button on my own Omni-Tool, seeing the secondary entrance open to reveal a pair of Batarian marines carrying an iron bar between them. Shackled upside-down to the bar was the figure of Zymandis, flashing all sorts of colors that I was quite certain varied somewhere between desperation and indignation. All of his tentacles were secured to the bar, lashed together with anti-biotic restraints. I gave a nod, and one of the Batarians lifted the circular translator, re-attaching it to the Hanar's body.

"This one defies you, Demon!" a high-pitched voice wailed through the device, "The Enkindlers return, instruments of the Ancient Ones' will, and the Beloved will follow in their footsteps, reborn in glorious…"

I made another gesture, and the device was removed, leaving the Hanar mute, except for its own luminescent language that only Drell and other Hanar seemed to understand.

"Satisfied?" I asked, resisting the urge to rub at my face. The sooner this pointless shit was done with the sooner I could return to Nos Astra and a long overdue vacation, and hearing a Hanar babble on about its religion wasn't improving my mood.

The Herald made a gesture of his own, and the file came up again, revealing the 3D image of the weapon, and suddenly, an orange orb floated from his wrist to the computer terminal beside us. Dozens of schematics and what appeared to be technical manuals appeared, all representing the various parts and assemblage of the rifle. "The blueprints: payment for a task well done, as promised."

Olympie looked over at me, and I sighed and turned to give it a cursory glance, my technical eye going over what parts of the document I could understand. Of course, the entire document was written in what I assumed was Prothean script, but then again, a translation of the text hadn't been in the agreement. I supposed Jona would have people that could work up a translation matrix, or at least make a rough approximation of one.

That or just pay off Aethyta to have Shepard or T'Soni translate the bloody thing

I gave Berra a nod of confirmation, and she resumed her seat, lifting a hand to the two Batarians. They in turn handed both ends of the restraining rod to the Krogan and Drell guards. The latter reached out a hand for the translator, which was handed over without ceremony. The alien then made a gesture of deep obeisance to the Herald, presenting the translator as if it was some kind of sacred object.

Athame's azure, maybe it was, in their weird religion.

Their lord and savior walked over to the still-bound Hanar, and very slowly set the translator back in place. The second it made contact with the Hanar's skin, more high-pitched whining began.

" _You will not_ take this one's _soul_ , made holy by the Ancient Gods…"

There was a flash of more green biotics, and the Hanar was suddenly floating in front of the Herald, the guards releasing the bar and taking quick steps back. The green biotics shimmered around the jellyfish's body, cutting off any further words.

Now I actually _did_ rub my forehead in exasperation. If he was going to execute the stupid thing after all the least he could have done was waited until he was on his own goddess-damned ship. With our luck, he was probably going to make it a long, drawn out affair that was going to leave pieces of jellyfish splattered all over the room...

Fuck. I should have charged Sederis _double_ for this crap.

 _Even as my mental bitching continued, t_ he Herald's touch and tone became almost gentle, the other hand rising to creepily caress the former Admiral. Dreadlocks shifted as his head shook, his voice lowering to something soft, clearly intending to be soothing. "The Dark Ones have touched your mind, Regards-the-Enkindlers-Work-In-Despair. Believe me, I am not your enemy..."

Then his eyes turned bright white, and two spikes extended from the wrist that held the Hanar fast, plunging deep into the alien's gelatinous body.

"I am thy _salvation_!" The words were barely audible over the high-pitched scream emanating from the translator, and I instantly regretted not having my helmet in place.

"Zymandis!" Came an inhuman snarl from the golden armored figure, breaking the shriek apart " _I_. _See. You_."

As if responding to his words, the Hanar shifted and changed through a dozen colors, and then, with a sudden flick of the wrist, the jellyfish slid off the spike nearly skewering it, falling into a heap on the floor, the god-awful screaming finally coming to a stop. I just kind of... stared as I tried to understand what the fuck this shit was about, everyone else seemingly in confused agreement.

"Rise," the Seneschal ordered callously.

It seemed to take it a tremendous amount of effort, but Zymandis managed to gather his tentacles beneath him. His body shook as he rose, as if he could no longer control the technology that allowed him to float.

"This one… lives to serve…the Exalted Herald… of the Enkindler's Return," The Hanar almost... _panted_ , the former passionate and high-pitched whine now a low, almost monotone drone. It clicked in my head around then what we had just witnessed, and from the shift behind me, a three-fingered hand falling to my shoulder to squeeze the armor to indicate her fury, so did Voya.

"Return to the _Vengeance_ ," Ko'le ordered, evidently oblivious to everything else, typing on his Omni-Tool. "Contact those that remain of the Expectant, inform them of your enlightenment, and implore them to reunite with the Illuminated Primacy. The Word of the Enkindlers must be honored."

The biotic restraints on the Hanar deactivated and the bar clattered to the floor in response, body bobbing weakly in something like a bow. "So mote it be."

He turned and began to float out of the room, evidently content to now serve the thing behind him. That lasted until I lifted my right hand, fingers flicking in a wordless order, and then the harsh crack of a Viper deafened everyone except for the luckless Admiral. The round took the Hanar center mass just as it reached the doorway, its internal matter becoming an external coating over the Krogan guard who had been lingering nearby.

Said guards started to bring their weapons up, then seemed to hesitate and turn as armored footsteps reminded him that there was a large number of marines standing directly behind them in the hallway. Their rifles snapped up even as the Primacy's soldiers did the same, everyone staring at everyone else as they waited for some kind of sign.

"That..." I spoke into the absolute silence that followed, the Seneschal's entire body quivering with anger that he seemed unable to express verbally. "Was intolerable. I would presume that you have some kind of argument for why I shouldn't simply throw you out the nearest airlock?"

When the Herald answered, his voice was terse monosyllabic. "I do."

Then there was flash of green, and then in the very next second, I felt the nauseating disorientation of being flash-stepped. I was being held above the ground, near the back of the room, and Ko'le's arm was glowing green with warpfire as it clutched my throat, his second rearing back to slam into my chest. "Because you are a dead man."

Then there was _crack_ of a nullifier, and the hand that would have burned straight through my body became a blow that _merely_ sent me flying across the room. Armor cracked audibly and something in my chest felt compressed, the sensation not at all helped by the abrupt end to my flight. I hit the far wall, hard, feeling all the air leave my lungs in a _whoosh_ and feeling a burning sensation creep across my chest.

Voya had followed her grenade with a snap-fire shot to the back of the Herald's head, sparking across where his helmet had folded from his face. While that saved his life, the force of the shot still sent him to his hands and knees. Focusing on recovering my wits, I was only vaguely aware of a Krogan roaring and hearing Volern's voice shouting above the chaos that the Communications Center and it surrounding area had become. The Seneschal, on the other hand, merely looked up, his helmet finishing the process of re-folding, leaving me starting at a pair of glowing green eyes.

" _Fine."_ The snarl boomed from the speakers, deepening to something nearly Krogan. "Kill them! All of them!"

And then suddenly, he was fading from view, and Voya's next shot hit only empty space where he had been only seconds before. She swore viciously and then also vanished behind a tactical cloak, throwing her rifle aside as she did.

 _Athame's fucking complicated azure!_

I _willed_ myself to roll to my side, coming up with pistol drawn as half of the asshole's bodyguards surged into the room, the rest evidently quite busy dealing with the marines outside. One of them didn't last long, Idia flash-stepping forwards to grab a red armored Drell, twisting him around to act as a meat shield when a Krogan tried to blast her.

"Boarding protocol blue!" She snarled, keeping her flailing hostage in place as she backed away, ignoring his screams as his own ally tried to shoot his way through him to get to her.

In response, there was a deep _thrum_ from somewhere below us, my ears popping as an emplaced biotic nullifier went active. A Drell promptly came stumbling out of a flash-step, slamming into the table at unseemly velocity. He hit it, hard, his pelvis or his equivalent audibly shattering as he screamed, a long vibroblade tumbling from his hands as he fell back. I shut him up with a heavy round through the forehead, not trusting that he wouldn't try and blow himself up via grenades.

There was a sudden curse, and Voya rippled back into view, alongside the figure of the Herald. Voya had her knives drawn now, and she was crouched low, bringing both of her blades upwards into the Neanderthal's gut... who responded by merely stepping forward, closing the distance between them. With a ringing _clang_ , both daggers met the golden adaptive body-armor and simply slid aside. Voya didn't have time to be surprised before a fist made contact with her helmet, driving her sideways. She staggered, tried to get her weapons back up, then took a second blow that might have snapped her neck had he had his biotics.

As it was it merely concussed her, sending her sprawling backwards, and leaving her opponent open for me to snap off two rounds into the center of his chest. Whatever the fuck his armor was made of held, but the deep grunts of pain, the idiot evidently still had his mic going, told me that he'd still felt the impacts either way. His response was to flicker out of sight again, making me curse as I flicked my eyes left to right.

Palming a grenade, and wincing a bit in pain as I brought my arm back, I threw it side-arm towards the least occupied area of the melee. The guess proved to be entirely on target as the explosion sent a humanoid figure reeling into a wall, the Seneschal falling to a knee and shaking his head violently. I was steadying my pistol to see how many rounds it would take to break through his helmet when I was struck hard from behind.

"Look out!" Lila T'oni snapped, her pistol barking as I dodged out of her way. The Drell that had been going for my throat with a wave-blade got her in the arm instead, the mercenary yowling as she collapsed to a knee, staring at the thing stuck through her bicep.

"Director!" Idia's shout was barely audible as I grabbed T'Goni, shoving her behind a console to try and keep her out of the brawl. "We've got company!" Eight... no twel... Athame's ass, fifteen signatures coming out FTL!"

I cursed in turn, taking a critical heartbeat to glance around the room. Nearly all of the Seneschal's guards were down, or seemed to be in the process of dying, but it was clear that they'd killed quite a few of my marines in turn. More annoying was the sight of the golden asshole managing to get back to his feet in the corner, his one-eyed Krogan buying him time with his life.

"Signal Joa!" I snapped out, bringing my pistol around once more. "Tell her to-"

" _My turn!"_ The roar interrupted me, the Herald matching his words by bringing up some kind of spinning, disc-shaped omni-shield on his left wrist. It caught the round I snap-fired on reflex, and he was flinging a grenade of his own before I could try for a second.

"Grenade!" Someone, Olympie I thought, shouted the warning as it sailed towards the entrance to the room, everyone scattering back as best they could. Unfortunately for my people, several had been in the process of trying to enter when it reached the hatchway, and there wasn't time to react before there was a cackle of energy, and a green-tinged singularity flared to life, evidently unaffected by the nullifier that was firmly keeping biotics suppressed.

Volern and several others were hauled off their feet before they could activate the mag-strips in their boots, floating helplessly as other marines leaned or scrambled back. The thing flickered once, twice, and then exploded in emerald fire, drawing screams from everyone who'd been too close.

I didn't have time to process it fully, or to get any idea as to how many of my people had just gone down, because the Seneschal had activated a flash-forged blade to go with his shield, a long spike style weapon extending from his wrist as he charged me. Firing a round into his shield on reflex, I activated my left war-gauntlet, and then my right as I dropped my pistol on a snap-decision; blunt impact trauma might get through the armor that had held off our gunfire.

He came in with a fury, but it was a wild animal's aggression, swinging his blade savagely rather than using its length and thrusting ability to his advantage. I parried one blow, then a second, stepping into his guard and snapping my right hand towards his face. His shield rose in reply, bringing into contact with all three of the explosive omni-panels on the fist.

It shattered at the blow, a guttural oath accompanying as he staggered back, throwing a third wild blow at my unprotected head. I threw myself right, keeping my skull in one piece, but losing the left braid in my hair. Rather than stop moving, I let my momentum carry me down into a roll, buying space, then snapped my right arm forwards, firing off a submission net even as my now much-shorter hair came down around my face. Blinded momentarily, I heard the unmistakable _snap-crack_ of the net and another curse, letting me know that I had found my target.

Ignoring him for a moment, I turned to try and reach for my helmet, now just a few steps away. I had to confess: Of all the things I had anticipated and planned for today, the Herald being _stupid_ enough to start a brawl _on my own ship_ had not been one of them. Even if he somehow managed to kill me and the others here, there was a couple of hundred crew members who would all-too happy to mob him or simply eject him into space.

My thoughts were just starting to gather, noting that the remainder of the fighting was clearly winding down, when something hit me low and on the side, ceramic plates cracking as I grunted and rolled with the momentum of the blow. Coming back up to one knee, I saw the Herald, submission net trapping his left arm around his upper body, bathed in electrical currents, still coming on.

 _"Athame's fucking-"_ I had seen goddess-damned _Krogan_ reduced to wrecks under the influence of a submission net, and even _Justicars_ were generally trapped by the things even if they didn't show the agony. He'd managed to avoid being entirely wrapped up, which had probably helped, but fucking _still._

 _"You think this is pain_!?" The Herald, his accent thickening into a nearly unintelligible rumble. Then, with a sweep of an arm, he ripped the bloody net from his arm and head by main strength and simply threw it at me.

Cursing, I flicked a hand in a gesture to de-activate it the heartbeat before it struck me, though the thick coils were still more than a little inconveniencing as I had to waste a few breaths to get the thing off me.

The second it cleared my sight I saw a gleaming orange blade coming at my head, and was only barely able to get my raised arm in place to deflect the impact. My opponent growled and kept his legs moving, lowering his shoulders and his center of gravity, clearly intending to simply drive me back by main force to find an opening. Hissing in pain as my ribs continued to inform me of their damage, I met his charge directly, using my left arm to keep his blade away while my right snapped out, the hand wrapping around the back of his neck.

He snarled in reply and drove two quick punches to my chest, trying to get me loose, and when I dug my heels in and accept the agony, tried to straighten and jerk himself back to give himself room to use his blade properly.

It was the mistake I'd been waiting for.

Lowering my torso even as he rose his, I drove my shoulder into his chest, snapped my left hand under his arm to grab his shoulder, stepped in, and then twisted viciously as my hips. The Seneschal let out a surprised gasp as he abruptly became airborne, flying up and over my shoulder as I slammed him into the decking, my own weight landing perpendicular to his chest as I did.

Not about to let the stupid keshin recover, I worked my right hand free and punched him as hard as I could in the head, detonating a line of tech plates across my gauntlet as I did. The second blow left a significant dent in the metalwork, and the third broke something from the cracking noise on impact, but didn't manage to shatter the bloody thing entirely.

Cursing and gasping, and now stuck waiting for the gauntlet to recharge, I got him by the throat and tried to hold on. There was a rattle from the Herald's throat that let me know that even his armor was not protecting him from me cutting off his air-flow, but then his free hand came up in a jab, striking my unguarded and already-damaged ribs. Gritting my teeth, I squeezed even harder, but my body was nearing its evident limits.

His fourth strike broke my hold, and he followed it with a punch at my head. It wasn't nearly as hard as it could have been, the angle and his own accumulated damage working in my favor, but it was enough to make me let go and roll away to avoid his attempt to grab my hair.

My effort to use my roll to get up into a crouch wasn't my most graceful display of agility, and I could sub-vocalize a few bitchy words to the goddess when he heaved himself up with far less trouble.

I felt a little better when he went to take a step towards me and staggered a bit to one side, but only a little.

Such feelings died entirely when a concussive round slammed into my left leg, sending me right back down to the bloody floor, a second such shot sending the Seneschal down as well.

"Enough!" A rasping shout made me blink and shake my head, turning in surprise to see another Drell, a female in a formal red and gold ensemble, de-cloak near Idia. She had a pistol in each hand, one for both her probable boss and for me. "This was supposed to be an exchange, not a battle!"

Said boss snarled through his cracked helm, "Captain Olm, you will-"

"With all due respect, Lord Herald." She cut him off, her voice lowering to something furiously earnest. " _Please. Shut. Up_."

There was a wheezing cackle from Idia at that, her mirthless laugh the only sound apart from gasping in the blood-spattered room. "Sirena."

"Idia." The Drell replied. "Long time."

"Decade." My Captain shook her head, something almost nostalgic in her voice. "Shooting your own employer? Good to see you still have a quad."

"You seem to have lost yours." Came the quick retort. "Or you'd have stopped yours from starting this."

Something angry came into the tattooed woman's eyes, but she held herself back from bringing her weapon up, or doing more than sharpening her voice. "My corporation doesn't have many rules, but we've got even fewer punishments. Your boss broke one."

The Drell regarded her flatly, then exhaled through her nose and nodded slightly. "I would like for this to be resolved peacefully, without the fleets now present blasting each other into scrap."

Idia pursed her lips, then glanced at me. "I... believe we would find that preferable as well. Director?"

I nodded, tried to speak, then ending up just coughing. For his part, Ko'le retracted his helmet, the motion not entirely smooth anymore, revealing a... incredibly complicated expression. It definitely seemed as if he was at war with himself, his eyes flicking about as his lips tightened and then relaxed; it wasn't until he glanced at the, miraculous still working, sensor display on the main table that he nodded as well.

No one quite _relaxed_ at that, but the tension did ratchet down a few tiny degrees. Medics and additional marines were already swarming into the area, but to my surprise it was Berra Olympie who reached me first. The well-dressed maiden fell to a knee beside me, her omni-tool running scans over my body. "I think you have a rib or two broken, but most are still together... the goddess alone knows how."

"Sit-rep." I rasped back at her, accepting the hand she offered when I tried to rise.

"He had a virus in the file he sent us." She reported, all but pressing her body against mine to make her muttered words inaudible to the others. "It was isolated locally, and the communications systems did a hard reset, but I think the data is gone."

"Dammit..." Grimacing, I glanced at the sensor display, and was unsurprised to see a mess of a stand-off. A good fifty or so Primacy vessels, including a pair of dreadnoughts, were hovering just beyond the _Vengeance._ Arrayed against them was our entire fleet, nearly sixty ships, but ours trended towards being far lighter in design even before the Hanar's probable technological superiority was included.

We couldn't beat them straight up, but then we didn't have to. Their _Herald_ was on one of our ships, and we had more than enough vessels to make any win on their side pyrrhic... assuming Joa didn't just have us rabbit to FTL so that we could flee to the safety of the Terminus.

"And you called me paranoid." I managed to sound somewhat normal when Idia shifted over to stand beside me, having just supervised a pair of medics carefully helping Voya up and guiding her out of the room. "Voya?"

"Concussion but otherwise fine." She reported. "Others weren't that lucky. Volern and seven of his squad are dead, we've got another dozen wounded, but all of that idiot's guards are dead... except for that giant Krogan, he's out but still breathing. Rest of the marines are forming a perimeter around the room, crew is already shifting."

Meaning that they were preparing to seal and vent this entire area if it came down to that. I nodded in approval and shifted a little, trying not to show that I was leaning on the Eclipse maiden as I turned to face our 'guest' as his own support spoke to him in quiet, urgent tones. He didn't seem thrilled at what she was saying, but a gesture at the display made him grimace and twitch his head in another silent nod.

"So here's the situation," I started, my weakened voice still carrying easily in the quiet room. "I _should_ put a bullet in your skull for the goddess-damned stupidity that you just offered."

There wasn't an ounce of fear in the gaze that he returned, pale lips pulling back in a sneer. "Even assuming you _could,_ primitive; my fleet would take yours apart like tissue paper."

"First? Doubtful," I stated. "Second, that wouldn't do _you_ much good."

The Herald shrugged. "As long as you were dead next to me, I'd count it worth it right now."

"Athame's fucking..." I started to curse, then grit my teeth against a wave of pain from my right side, "Anyone else I would have thought that a pathetic bluff… but you really are that much of a moron, aren't you?"

"I've already died many times over," The herald stated evenly, his eyes flicking around at how many guns were pointed at him in that moment. "Maybe, just _maybe_ , the combined strength of every soldier on this… _vessel_ … could kill me again. But rest assured, _you_ would not survive such an attempt."

There was a stir of motion around us as the threat hung in the air, and I was giving serious consideration to having someone shoot him anyway when his Drell subordinate stepped directly in between he and I.

"Or," Sirena Olm offered, "We could all go our separate ways and save the war for our _actual_ enemy: the Reapers. Everyone here knows they're coming, that we'll need every gun, every ship. We can hardly afford to waste anyone in pointless dick-measuring."

A muscle in my cheek twitched, and the rasp in my voice became something frigid. "I will not tolerate indoctrination, of _any_ kind, on my ship."

"It is intolerable to purge Reaper indoctrination from the minds of the weak in this cycle, then?" The Herald's voice was terse and delivered syllable by syllable. "Do you also slit the throats of your children when they fall ill?"

I just kind of stared at him, somehow astonished at the continued arrogance on display. Athame's ass, he was making _Nynsi_ seem _humble._

"His mind was taken by the Reapers," the Seneschal continued, "Somewhere in his past, he was exposed to one of their monoliths. My nanite induction had succeeded in PURGING that code, making him the master of his own self again... but apparently, that is unacceptable to your primitive minds."

For a long few moments I could only keep starting, then I gave him the only response I could: I laughed at him.

It was wheezy, quiet, and probably didn't sound all that sane, but I thought it got the message across. "You... you actually expect me to... Athame's azure. You do, don't you? You actually think that I'll _believe_ that."

"What you believe is irrelevant." He informed me, a vicious kind of anger clear in his stance. The laughter was probably getting to him, or to whichever other psychopath lived in his head. "As I told you before."

"You did." I allowed, still grinning a little, "Take your delusions, your wounded, and yourself off this ship."

The Herald drew himself up and took a step forwards only to bump into Olm who hadn't yet moved. He glanced down at her with a thunderous expression, but then there was a flicker in his eyes, and he relaxed visibly. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he nodded once when she turned to look back at him. She moved to where his last bodyguard was being heaved onto a stretcher by a pair of Batarians, murmuring to them as they got moving.

He himself moved to follow, then slowed and stopped near the door. "Miss Berra Olympie. You may explain to your father Director Kean's actions are the reason for the file's destruction."

The maiden drew her shoulders back, and for a moment I saw her father in her indignant expression. "That is unacceptable. Director Kean delivered the Hanar into your care. By the words of our agreement, the task was fulfilled."

"Did I or did I _not_ transfer the title to your computer databanks?"

"To _Blade_ computers." She retaliated coldly. "Not Eclipse machines."

"I delivered them to _you,_ " He growled in reply, "If you had wished them in a separate location you should have informed me of such things. As it was, Director Kean saw fit to terminate the Hanar that was in my custody, and I therefore in turn saw fit to delete the original file that was his... And now I must go end a civil war, a task made all the more difficult by his own incompetence."

I snorted but didn't offer anything further, there wasn't any point. Olympie showed her youth then, floundering for a moment before lamely offering, " "My father will not be pleased."

"Direct her towards the human idiot, or tell her to come to me _personally_ with her complaint," snarled the Herald. "And _her_ head can adorn a spike next to the Black Queen's."

She started, as if she had been struck, blinking rapidly. "What? What does _that_ even... are you serious?"

"I leave it to your primitive minds to unravel. I cannot hold the hands of _everyone_ in this galaxy. Kean?" I met his gaze evenly, boredly, my anger cooling as my mind chased logic through mental currents. "You killed my men, I killed yours. Prothean justice would call the scales balanced."

"I am not a Prothean," I retorted flatly.

The grin that met my words was mirthless. "When it comes down to it… neither am I."

Then the golden figure spun on a heel and followed his two surviving comrades out of the room. Marines turned to follow, escorting them back to the hangar, while a few others began to collect the dead. For my part I simply limped to an intact chair and fell into it, rubbing at my chin and waiting for this tides-be-damned shit to be over.

A final moment of tension came as the shuttle neared one of the Hanar dreadnoughts, entering it as our fleet began to reform for its jump out system. But rather than start a suicidal battle, the Primacy fleet simply turned as well, one by one launching themselves into FTL.

"Well, that was about as fucked-up as I had hoped for," Idia exhaled in relief as the last one blinked away. "Guess we have a new enemy to add to the ledger."

"My father will be…" Berra sighed as she settled herself into her own chair, her gown splattered with blood. "She's going to be furious over this one. Athame's azure, Kean, did you really have to have her shoot him?"

"Yes." I replied simply.

She blinked at me. "Why?"

I regarded her, then shook my head, reaching up to start gathering my loose hair into a pony-tail. Behind me, I heard Idia sigh before she explained, "Corporate law girl. Slavery in our territory, of any kind, is not tolerated, and the punishment is death if caught."

Her brows furrowed as she puzzled over that, then she seemed to wince, "Oh... the indoctrination thing that he did."

"Yes." The Captain replied. "Whatever that idiot did, or _thought_ he was doing, he was taking away that poor fucker's free will. Killing him was mercy."

"I suppose." She allowed, "But we could have still just reported the ability to my father and had her dispatch a Night Whisperer or a freelance agent, we didn't _have_ to engage."

"Yes." I said once more, "I did. Drop it."

Olympie winced, bit her lip, then reluctantly seemed to nod. I closed my eyes tiredly, not really able to blame her for being edgy. Explaining this to Jona wasn't going to be fun for anyone involved... neither would explaining to Voya that she couldn't hunt the son of a bitch down. Not that he didn't deserve her killing him in a horrendously painful and creative way, but the Drell pirate, Olm, had had a point.

Killing the dedicated, war-focused leader of a nation-state, even the _Hanar_ one, before the Reapers or Leviathans made their move wasn't a winning move. He would serve his purpose during the war, that much seemed obvious. And then, if what he had implied was true, if some of the declarations he had made were in fact his long-term intentions... he would be rubbing up against Aria.

If he thought he could provoke _her_ and get away with it... she would drink wine from his skull, assuming that Jona didn't fill it with rum first. There wouldn't be much point to me getting involved, they'd be more than capable of killing him without any help from me.

Though if I asked politely enough, they'd probably let me watch.

"Idia, signal Joa to get the fleet out of here. Core fleet is to return to Nagato," I opened an eye in time to see her nod her head. "We'll head for Illium by way of Omega. I've had enough of goddess-damned jellyfish and delusional Neanderthals to last me for a few centuries."

* * *

 **Author's Note: So... That went well.**

Reviewer Response: BJ Hanssen - Ko'le has also been awakened VERY late in the cycle (as evidenced by the wide-spread appearance of the Collectors and Sovereign. In his mind, he is running out of time, and Beast is itching for a fight.


	8. Troubling Developments

**The Herald  
** _(Ko'le Seneschal)_

 **Location:** IPV _Virago_ , enroute to Kahje.

* * *

The door closed, the Hanar medics who had frantically, and pointlessly, rushed me upon our arrival back at the _Virago_ leaving at last. For their part, Sirena and Tallaxis stood to the side of the door, staying silent as the lights dimmed to our preferred levels.

"Syed?" I asked, looking at the holo-table showing a map of the galaxy rather than at either of them.

"A round went through one of his hearts," the Drell woman answered, her voice quiet. "Assuming the medics can replace what blood he's lost, he may pull through yet, Amonkira willing. He's a damn tough son of a _bekwa._ "

"There is _no_ finer Med-Bay in the galaxy than the _Virago_ ," Tallaxis insisted. "If Commander Nakmor can survive anywhere, it is here."

That was likely hyperbole, but I supposed that I could only hope it was true. Nakmor's death would be _another_ setback on top of the ones that we had already suffered. "I know what you're thinking; my temper and anger got good people killed."

The Drell captain didn't make any response, but a glance saw her shift a little and place her arms behind her.

"This one does not believe the blame can be laid entirely upon the Exalted One's shoulders," Tallaxis interjected quickly, his flashing as angry and quick as his words. "The human Kean certainly… _escalated_ matters through his actions."

I clenched a fist at the massive understatement, feeling my own righteous anger mingle with Beast's blind rage, which was historically a very dangerous combination.

"It was not just the one hanar who died on that ship," I hissed. "Through one act of stupidity, Kean condemned _hundreds_ to die to end this civil war, when all I _needed_ was… was one…"

"The Silver Blades have a corporate law prohibiting slavery," Sirena explained, her voice subdued. "A law they have enforced to the letter on their holdings in Illium, Redcliffe, and Omega. I think Kean believed you were robbing Zymandis of his free will, and that executing him was an act of mercy."

I groaned in sheer frustration as I turned fully to face her. "What I was doing was the _farthest_ thing away from slavery! I _freed_ his mind from the shackles…"

" _I_ believe you, sir," the Drell woman replied, "But the only analogous technology we've have seen before you came were the indoctrination pods, or the Dragon's Teeth. And when it comes to Reaper-like tech, sir, the galaxy has learned the hard way that hesitation costs lives."

It took everything I had to hold Beast back from putting a fist through the holographic projection table, our body spinning around as I fought the urge to cut our biotics loose, to demolish and destroy _something_ to alleviate the rage. "How long must I be plagued by uncomprehending _primitives_?!"

 **"You should have let me kill him."**

 ** _"And YOU should have waited until we were back on our own ship!"_** I snarled right back at him. " ** _We hardly needed to tend to Zymandis aboard the mercenary's ship!"_**

 **"They needed a demonstration of our POWER!"**

 ** _"You call THAT a demonstra…"_** I cut myself off mid-sentence when I realized that our mental dialogue was being spoken aloud. Somewhat sheepishly, I turned towards the other two occupants in the room. They were polite enough to not _gawk,_ necessarily, but there was a good mixture of confusion and concern in Sirena's gaze, and Tallaxis seemed to have shifted his body slightly away, as if uncertain.

After a few moment of the awkward silence, my yeoman began to flash softly, his translated voice quiet as he stated the obvious, "It is true, Exalted One: Zymandis' death will make ending this conflict… much more difficult. We must move quickly if we are to avoid the remainder of the Expectant from making a martyr out of the admiral."

"Who is likely to succeed him as the leader of that faction?" I asked, thankful for a subject to focus my scrambled thoughts towards.

He seemed to flicker thoughtfully before answering, "The most obvious possibility would be Bolohn. He may believe he could so in safety, living on the Citadel."

"Then make him _dead_ ," came Beast's snarl in our voice. "Him and all his kin. _Burn_ their worlds, _slaughter_ their children, _make_ examples…"

"My Lord?" Sirena offered hesitantly, "If I may?"

I closed my eyes to prevent Beast from flaring his hostility through glowing white eyes, his rage inflamed by her soft voice. "Continue."

"Zymandis was a zealot, resisting from a place of religious fervor," She shook her head slightly. "Bolohn is an opportunist, lacking any kind of motivation other than personal gain. Killing him only might create more martyrs for the cause, whereas _recruiting_ him could advance your cause."

I took several deep breaths as I processed her argument. "Tallaxis... Do we have a way of getting in contact with Bolohn?"

"This one believes so," Tallaxis bobbed in the air, "Rhysan still has many contacts on the Citadel."

"Send a communique to him," I said finally. "Ask him if acting as 'Citadel Ambassador of the Prime Kratocracy' is an office he would be interested in, in return for his influence in bringing what Expectant forces that remain back into the fold."

It was an office that in the long run, would have zero function, as I was still firmly resolved to have as little dealings with the fools on the Council as possible. But the lack of responsibilities, I suspected, would be yet another appeal of taking the job for Bolohn if he were made aware of it. And Tallaxis had made a point in our prior conversations: it would be useful to have _some_ kind of presence on that death-trap, if for no other reason than to keep a watchful eye on the Council and their childish foolishness.

And if the Reapers came and massacred the station again… he would be no great loss to our cause.

"Your will, Herald," Tallaxis beamed his approval, bowing low before leaving the room, leaving Sirena and I alone.

"If that is all, sir?" She asked when I said nothing, "I must get back to my ship."

"Sirena?" I stated, turning towards her. She seemed to start slightly at my using her first name, but otherwise made no reaction. "I… If you hadn't… You spoke wisdom, today."

"I only speak the truth, as I see it, as you instructed." She replied humbly, backing out the door as I waved her dismissal.

Beast snarled as the door closed behind the Drell woman. **She's said quite enough already.**

 ** _She saved us from your fucking idiocy._** I snarled right back at him, not at all in the mood for his attitude. Reaching back, something in my shoulder made me wince as I was typing the fold command on our armor. To my frustration, several of the micro-panels were cracked and broken, causing the armor to stick in place, or stab me painfully as it attempted to retract. Eventually I gave up and was forced to use the emergency code, separating the panels manually and peeling myself out of them.

 ** _A Father-damned waste of time._** I growled mentally, **_Zymandis gone, and with him any chance to make an ally of the Blades or Sederis._**

 **We have learned many valuable lessons.** Beast countered, **The next fight will** -

 ** _'The next fight?'_** I scoffed, **_Beast, we just had our asses handed to us by a bunch of mercenaries who wouldn't have even been cannon fodder in our cycle._**

 **Only because we were robbed of our biotics** , He insisted stubbornly, **And you had your ass handed to you. I am the real reason we survived that fight.**  
 ** _  
In our cycle, we faced eight Champions of the Fighters' Guild and emerged victorious. We held the Breach at Easue single-handed. The Densorins added our name to their language to mean 'Monster' and used it to frighten children into obedience._**

 ** _And today, you could not even defeat a single primitive human in hand-to-hand combat. What do you think your Master would have answered if you had offered such excuses?_**

The reference to our creator was a low blow, but it was one of the few weapons I could use that would shut him up for any length of time. I could feel him recoil violently at the very notion, fear, anger, and despair all whirling around before abruptly fading.

 ** _Beast?_**

 ** _._**

 ** _._**

 ** _._**

 ** _Beast?_**

The tension of our mental strain eased and blissful silence settled upon… me. A good while later, I separated the last of the golden panels from my arm, setting it down next to the many others on the table. Clad in nothing more than the shorts I had worn beneath the plating, I eased myself into a chair, leaning back and taking delight in the mental solitude of the moment.

For once I had time to think, to strategize, to analyze... without interruptions.

The main take-away from the... _battle_ was the simple fact that without our biotics, we were not the awe-inspiring force that we had been in the previous cycle. We were just one more armored body to absorb blows and blaster fire, an enhanced one perhaps, with superior armor, but another body beneath all the same. Further, primitive though they may have been technologically, there seemed to be less wrong with the locals' innate sense of paranoia. They had naturally underestimated how difficult we would be to kill, but they had been entirely prepared to make the attempt regardless.

 ** _Armor modifications_** **,** I mused, running through the memories of the fight, another Prothean enhancement hardwired directly into my brain. Perhaps the external shield generators of this cycle, while far inferior even the protection of my body-suit, would serve to at least mitigate damage should I encounter a similar situation. After all, I was the only engineer in the galaxy that could repair the adaptive bodysuit. If the dead Blades, Krogan and Drell were any indication, we could absorb more than the suits they had borne, but I had no desire to push our luck again.

We… _I_ would need more grenades, as well. Evidently whatever nullifier technology the primitives of this cycle utilized, it had no effect on the Dark-Grenade I had managed to find in the ruins of Therum. Using one of the precious devices on the Blades had been an act of desperate rage. The three I still held would have to be replicated, and soon. Furthermore, I would need to carry an external weapon, preferably more than one. If my biotics were even stripped away from me again, I would not like to rely on only my Master-Tool to defend myself... evidently _it_ wasn't the supreme melee weapon it had been in my cycle either.

More importantly, any further battles had to take place at a time and place of our… **_dammit_** , **_MY_** choosing. Sirena Olm's intervention had been a saving grace in that fight, regardless of Beast's protestations to the contrary. I made a mental note to come up with an appropriate apology for her when the time was right.

But... perhaps most importantly, the growing mental rift between Beast and myself was growing wider and wider. In the last cycle, we had almost managed to create some form of synergy near the end. Those mental accords had clearly been eradicated by the long stasis-sleep, and here in this cycle, there were no Magi to work their Mind-Healing. More terrifying, there were none with whom I could trust with the Master Control Phrase, to be used in case Beast ever seized full control over our body.

Beast was willing to sacrifice anything for victory, even himself. He would have quite happily died an utterly pointless death on the mercenary cruiser, the final legacy of the Prothean Empire becoming nothing more than a footnote in some criminal's daily log. That was the purpose for which Kopral Robbidir had built him, all those millennia ago: a glass cannon to be fired and discarded. Such tactics had no place in this cycle, when the fate of the galaxy and the legacy of the Protheans rested upon our shoulders. Eight Primacy soldiers were dead, with perhaps Nakmor Syed among them, if the giant Krogan did not recover from his wounds.

I ran through the memory of the fight again, this time noting how a mere _four_ Krogan had accounted for most of the Blade causalities of the fight, if I removed my grenade's contribution. They were hardy warriors, if their more bestial instincts could be held in check... a smirk stole across my lips, the irony of the thought not escaping me.

Turning back to the holographic display, I carefully manipulated it to show the latest information on our recruiting efforts. While several pirate bands had answered the call after my broadcast, they remained too few in number, or too weak in general, to be truly called an army. Most had, sensibly if annoyingly, elected to take a wait-and-see approach, wanting me to prove my strength before they joined me.

More hopeful had been the calls put out by Nakmor Syed, who had cried to other Krogan hold-outs in the Traverse and Terminus, calling his _krantt_ to rally to him in vengeance of the name and memory of the long-dead Krogan 'Emperor.' It was _not_ the Emperor I wished them to fight for, necessarily, but as long as it gained me fighters I would... tolerate it.

The only drawback was that the Krogan, and indeed, most of the forces I had collected outside of the Primacy, were fiercely independent. I had no zero doubts that once I began amassing territory I would have to put down at least two or three rebellious fools. In addition, according to most of my advisors, the gathering of Krogan under any one banner tended to draw a _lot_ of attention from all corners of the galaxy, breeding hostility and distrust, two things which I already had in great abundance and no need of more.

If this Cycle was to survive where the Empire had failed, if I was to rebuild the Emerald Throne if/when the Reapers were defeated, I would need more soldiers, and of higher caliber than I had witnessed from the Primacy thus far. The so-called 'Great' Warlords would not aid me, not while I remained weaker than they, and they in turn seemed to control the bulk of truly competent mercenaries in the galaxy. While I had no doubts that I would prove my power and draw yet more pirates and criminals behind my banner, _quality_ remained a problem... there simply weren't enough Krogan of Nakmor's stripe left in the galaxy.

 ** _Although... I wonder…_**

I picked up a datapad nearby, thumbing through a number of reports before finding what I sought. Typing a command, the nearby communicator soon brought up a salarian face.

"Herald," Vashon Chaz stated simply in greeting, straightening from whatever task we had interrupted. "What can I do for you?"

"Commander," I replied in kind, "I had a question, one which I thought you could shed some light upon from your career with the STG?"

An inquisitive look crossed the salarian's face, and his head cocked to the left slightly.

"What exactly do you wish to know?"

I smiled, then sent over the report I had been reading, a figure of a large and impressive creature filling the screen.

"Tell me: What do you know of the… Yahg?"

* * *

 **Legacy's Witness  
** _(Berra Olympie)_

 **Location:** Nos Irrail, Illium, Tasale System, Crescent Nebula

* * *

"So what you're saying is you came away with exactly nothing to show for all that hard work?" Jona Sederis mused over the edge of her wine, considering us with her cold eyes. "Or, perhaps, you have an explanation?"

Trena T'Laria tugged on the edges of her dark coat as she shifted her weight, every ounce of irritation showing on her face, but I managed to speak up before my uncouth half-sister could.

"Not at all," I stated, trying to force as much confidence into my voice as possible given the situation. "The Illuminated Primacy is preparing for war, and we were able to not only verify the identity of the Herald, but witness both his abilities and fighting proficiencies first-hand."

Trena rolled her eyes as she wandered over to the room's bar, grabbing a bottle and pouring herself a drink. "Shit, leave the posturing bullshit to Ithiri: she's a lot fucking better at it."

There was a scoff of amusement from the lounging form of our father. "The weapons could have been useful, but in the long run, inconsequential. The presence of the virus makes me doubt that he ever intended for us to have them at all."

I managed to _not_ breathe a sigh of relief at her words, settling instead on a slow exhale, purposely steading my shoulders so as to not let them slump as I relaxed. I had hoped to bring up that very point, as it had been something that Kean had been especially irritated about during the return journey, but I was glad that she had saved me from having to try and do so.

"I'd be more interested in whatever fucking armor that was," Trena stated. "Fucker shrugged off point-blank shots from that fucking hand-cannon the ape carries, not to mention the she-bitch's Viper rounds to the back of his head."

"What's more of interest to me is this… Herald's abilities." Jona's eyes flicked over to a darkened corner of the room. "Diesi, you melded with her?"

"I have, ma'am." The sensual words came as the Night Whisperer _floated_ from the shadows where she had been dutifully standing. Diesi T'Laria was only a few years shy of being a matriarch herself, but beneath her elegant robes, if a discerning eye could see past the distraction of the _very_ generous amount of cleavage shown, barrier nodes flickered, the only hint that the woman was far more than the mere courtesan she appeared.

Melding with her had been both less and more unsettling than my 'meld' with the Herald... in the sense that I hadn't even _realized_ that she was melding with me until I'd blinked, noticed that nearly ten minutes had passed with her hand upon my arm, and nearly had a heart attack as a result.

"The meld is distinctly _strange_ ," She reported, her tones almost whimsical. "I must confess; it is unlike-"

"Knock that high-bitch act off." Trena all but growled from her place at the bar. "Not when I'm fucking around."

Diesi rolled her eyes at her House Matra's order, but when she spoke again she had lost her Thessian drawl in exchange for her natural clipped Illium tones... and her family's strange predilection for casual swearing. "It wasn't anything similar to our melding, nor any other kind of mental communication I know of. I'm not surprised that little Berra wasn't able to see much of the crap in his head."

I bent my head in acknowledgement, even as my cheeks burned at the less-than-subtle backhanded jab at my youth, disguised as an attempt make an excuse for my failure.

"As for the memory itself," The almost-matriarch continued, "I think it's an accurate picture of the Northern Ahwqo Peninsula on Thessia, minus fifty thousand years, more or less. The Asari in the memory are a close match for our peoples' historical memories of the bloody Bronze Age, which was creepy as fuck to see."

My father nodded thoughtfully, swirling a cup of what I strongly suspected was merely water, despite it being poured into a wine glass. "Not something you could _fake_ or learn from a history book, then."

"Athame's ass no," Diesi began, "Either this... primitive Monkey-Herald got this information from _mind-ripping_ it from the skull of a priestess of the House of Knowledge on Thessia…"

"Or he _is_ who he claims to be," Jona finished for her.

"Does that change the situation?" Trena asked, downing her second glass of what was very clearly _not_ water. "What would it matter if he proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was Lucen or _fucking_ Janeri come again in the flesh? Not a goddess-damned thing."

"He has certainly proved _extremely_ creative in his tactics thus far," Father mused. "Olm, Chaz, and the others are small-enough fish, but Maldus' fleet is far from insignificant."

The source of the annoyance was doubtless from the fact that Leska and others had been courting Flavian Maldus' allegiance for some time. A small operator, from what the Blades had told me, but very competent, and that was far more valuable than mere numbers.

"That is assuming that all of them are following him of their own free will," I stated in a low tone, causing all three elders turning to look at me. I swallowed but held my ground, "If he felt able to... indoctrinate, corrupt, whatever it was, a Hanar Admiral, I don't think he'd hesitate to do the same to anyone else who was a bit slow in bowing to him."

"Athame's fucking … Because we didn't have _enough_ to worry about from the Leviathans and the Reapers," Trena groaned, "now we have _this_ asshole's indoctrination tech to worry about. No wonder the ape had the psychopath put a slug through the poor fuck."

My father hadn't made a single twitch while watching the stomach-wrenching recording from the _Shokari_ of... _whatever_ the Herald had done to the hanar, and merely took another sip of her glass.

"There are few enough beings who can take on a Xenthan Trophy Taker one-on-one, and emerge unscathed," she spoke slowly, frowning as she did. "And Gears has often touted Kean's ability as a close quarters fight. That he dealt with the former and held off the latter, even for a relatively short time, is... interesting.'

As if to punctuate her final word, the door behind us opened with a _bang_ , causing me to start violently and whirl towards the source of the disturbance. Ithiri's uniformed figure stood in the doorway, along with two or three Elder Sisters in escort. These paused outside the room, a short distance behind the Commander of the Eclipse, and my second eldest sister.

"Diesi," Ithiri stated flatly as she strode into the room, "Berra. Out."

The Night Whisperer and I made our salutes, and moved to head out the door.

"Berra," My father stated calmly, "Stay."

Blinking in surprise, I flicked my eyes between Jona and Ithiri, who looked annoyed that her order had been overruled, but said nothing to press her point. I chose the middle ground of standing where I was, folding my hands in front of me as Diesi departed, using her biotics to gently close the doors behind her. The sound of the doors closing was ominous in its own way, and I stared intently at the floor, _willing_ myself to disappear into the carpet. I had no doubt that in Ithiri's eyes, that's exactly what I had done, as she gave a slight _huff_ and stepped past me.

"What is so important that you would intrude?" Jona asked, narrowing her eyes as Ithiri did _not_ elect to take a seat opposite her mother.

"Two pieces of intelligence from Kahje," Ithiri stated bluntly, pulling up a file on her Omni-Tool "The first that the Illuminated Primacy has been reorganized into something that the Hanar are calling the Prime Kratocracy. The Congress of Worship has been disbanded, and full executive power has been transferred to the office of the _Ba'Rrakt_ : one Ko'le Seneschal."

Trena groaned audibly, and the sound of liquid pouring no doubt indicating that she was pouring herself _another_ liberal drink. _"Goddess_ , of course the egotistical bastard would do something as fucking crazy as that."

"And the second?" Jona asked, ignoring her commentary entirely.

Ithiri grimaced, "The reason I barged in. The first proclamation of the Ba'Rrakt is the full diplomatic recognition of the Eclipse Confederacy, with the figure of Jona Sederis as, quote, 'The Head of State thereunto of the same,' unquote."

Behind the bar, Trena immediately began hacking as she choked on her drink, but my eyes were jerked back towards the sound of shattering glass.

Jona Sederis was now leaning forward, blood seeping through her hand where she had biotically shattered the glass she had held. When she spoke again her voice was utterly flat and emotionless, not even a hint of warmth remaining in her being, "What."

Trena managed to clear her lungs after a few long breaths, shaking her head. "Leska couldn't have gotten up to shit, she's still on Xentha."

"None of our branches have been in contact with Kahje in any official capacity," Ithiri confirmed. "And we have received no overtures of any kind, via any political channels. Fucker did this entirely from nowhere."

Jona clenched her bleeding fist, and then, very slowly and deliberately, leaned back. "Berra."

I was startled at the mention of my name, and I looked up to find all three of my family members staring _very_ intently at me. Licking my lips, I tried for confident but only managed to stammer, "I... I..."

"Take a breath," Father stated coldly. "And give us your appraisal. You are the only one here who knows him."

I took the moment to do just that, inhaling through my nose and collecting my scattered thoughts. It was far more difficult than it should have been, and I spoke slowly, trying to make sure I didn't misspeak. "I... I believe… That this is most likely some kind of apology on the Sene… on the Ba'Rrakt's part. Or at least... maybe an effort to _not_ make an enemy of the Eclipse."

Ithiri make a gesture of dismissal and Trena _snorted_ in derision. "Two tides too late for that. If the bloody moron seriously thinks that…"

"It makes us a target," Sederis stated calmly. I must have had some kind of questioning look on my face, as my father rolled her eyes slightly and then rose to her feet. "Aria will _never_ believe that the Illuminated Primacy, or whatever they are calling themselves, would recognize us in a gesture of magnanimity. She will believe I am gaining something, as I would have had the deal actually occurred."

"You think she'll get paranoid about us jumping her in the coreward Terminus?" Ithiri asked.

Trena snorted, "No, bitch is paranoid but not stupid. None of us can afford that petty shit, but it's going to make working together in the war a bitch and a fucking half. Everyone's going to be paranoid about where they end up after."

I winced, entirely agreeing but not wanting to draw further attention to myself. I didn't think Aria would seriously expect Sederis to contribute to any de-stabilizing of her territory _before_ the Reaper's arrival, but it would definitely increase the tension between the two. As much as I didn't want to, I had to give it to the human: this was a bold move. It was a classic I-Sec tactic: treat whatever scumbag you had dragged in off the street _like_ an informant, and everyone else in the gang would _believe_ he had been an informant. That left him two options: Run like hell, or become the informant, both of which equally suited the original purpose. Granted, the scenario became infinitely more complicated when applied to nation-states and the galaxy at-large, but the underlying principle was the same.

"True." Ithiri rolled a shoulder, "But doesn't change the fact that the wind is ours now. We recognize the fuck in return?"

"Are you bloody serious?" Trena asked incredulously. "I say you make _no_ response, of any kind. Don't give him any shit that he can-"

"Three months ago," Father stated, cutting her off in a tone that did _not_ invite debate or contradiction. "We did not know of this human's _existence._ And in that time, he has not only managed to gather a not-inconsiderable number of the unaligned pirate bands, but has taken control of the _most_ democratic government in our galaxy, and transformed it into a military dictatorship. Choosing the krogan word for 'Strongest' as a goddess-damned title is a direct challenge to the rest of the galaxy."

From the tone in her voice and the look on her face, I could not tell if my father was speaking about these events from a place of anger, or admiration... probably both.

"Ithiri: contact Leska on Xentha at once: I need to speak to Yan. And then I want _you_ on Omega. Personally." Ithiri drew herself up and merely inclined her head in a nod. Once she had done so, Jona continued, ""Gears, I want you and Kean to find out what you can. He remains on speaking terms with those Specters, does he not? See what they know... and yes, tell him he will be compensated for his time."

Trena wisely made no response except to nod as well, and the two elders strode from the room side by side, leaving just me and my father in the same room. She walked over the bar, blue biotics glowing as she retrieved another glass from the cabinet. My thoughts were racing at the news we had just received, and why Jona Sederis hadn't dismissed with the others.

Of course, it was also entirely possible that she had _forgotten_ I was there altogether. Several minutes passed with not a word spoken, until the silence became so oppressive that I felt the need to clear my throat, if for nothing else to remind my father that I was still present. She looked over towards me, her lips pressed in a thin line that told me without words that I had a very short time to explain why I had interrupted her mental currents.

"Father…" I began hesitantly, "Your hand…?"

She looked down at her left hand, still bleeding from where the glass had cut into the skin, and scoffed. "It's nothing."

"May I?" I asked quietly.

She gave me a look that I could not place, but offered her palm all the same. I activated my Omni-Tool, applying the Medi-Gel to the cut. Her regeneration would have healed the minor injury in a matter of hours, but… I was just standing here, and I knew better than to try and slip away without being dismissed.

"They will want me to abdicate," My father said finally, as I finished applying the Med-Patch program. I looked up to see her staring at me with that same cold, emotionless look. I had no idea what whim or fancy possessed her to start _confiding_ in me... or wait: was this a test?

"That… _would_ take the wind from the human's sails," I said, choosing my words _very_ carefully. I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead, despite the loose dress I was wearing, and the relatively low temperatures of the room. "He could not _rescind_ his diplomatic recognition... and he knows nothing of Leska. It... would also work well with the Council's requests. It might defuse some tension, buy us some more time to build."

She made some sort of affirmative sound in her throat as she took another sip of the clear liquid in her glass. Not knowing what else to say, and not wanting to harp upon the obvious, I elected to fall silent once more, praying mentally that I had spoken the words she'd wanted to hear.

"You are wiser than your mother, Berra Olympie," she stated at last.

I felt my cheeks color hotly. From I remembered and had been told, that was no great accomplishment. I had only vague memories of the woman who had given birth to me, more _feelings_ and _impressions_ really. I had been brought up in the Eclipse my whole life, the child of a hundred mothers, and only one imposing, mostly-absent father. I was pretty sure this was the most words we had exchanged in over a century.

"Your next assignment will be with the Blades once more." She continued, "You will go to Khar'shan Minor and be assigned to their Nightblade program. You can... learn there, if Gears does not break your mind in addition to your body."

I felt my mouth open in shock. The Nightblades were Kean and Trena's attempt to create their own Night Whisperers, elite courtesans capable of acting as internal police and assassins. There were only a dozen or so of them that I knew of, but they were already second only to the infamous Lancers within the growing corporation's ranks. To become one wouldn't quite be the same thing as becoming a true Night Whisperer, but for a mere maiden like myself it was... "Will... they accept me?"

A ghost of a smile played at the corner of Jona Sederis' mouth. "If they give you any problems, direct them to me. Keep your head down, and your mind open, girl. Now… go. Leave me."

I bowed wordlessly, bringing a hand up in an Eclipse salute, before I turned on my heel and headed out the door. Whether this assignment was a reward or punishment for the way this mission had turned out, I was not sure, but I supposed only time would tell...

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **So we've got some interesting developments, and Ko'le Seneschal making his next moves, which shall not go unnoticed by the rest of the galaxy.**

 **As always, please feel free to leave your thoughts/impressions/suggestions/constructive criticisms below! Your reviews are always welcome!**

* * *

Reviewer Responses:

BJ Hanssen, seabo76 - Essentially, you have to think of what it would have been like if Javik had just woken up without Shepard in Mass Effect 3. In the Prothean way of mind, might makes right, and the ability to do something is the justification for the action itself ("if it shouldn't have happened, it wouldn't have been possible for me to do, or someone more powerful to stop me."). In BE, Kevin is definitely the mitigating effect in the story, and his introduction suppressed Beast for a long while, and gave Ko'le someone to learn from and get his bearings in this cycle (some thing the Ba'Rrakt is entirely lacking in this universe).

ee-RAH, my friends!

-Tusken1602


	9. Councils of War

**Scaled Perspective**

 _(Trena T'Laria)_

 **Location** : Blades Command Manor, Khar'shan Minor, Illium

* * *

"The fuckers have done _what?"_ I all but shouted, sure that I hadn't heard correctly.

Ayle ul Massa took a deep breath before repeating the statement. "A full fleet of ships bearing the mark of the Kratocracy have taken control of Heshtok. The Scarlet Tears Patrol fleet above the planet has been destroyed or scattered, along with the few Blood Pack vessels still operating in the area."

I just kind of gaped at her. "What the _fuck_ would Hanar want with an ash-ridden, volcanic, radioactive jungle planet?"

"According to their official press release," the Reyja'krem replied, "it is to 'research Enkindler ruins and retrieve artifacts contained therein,' in accordance with the treaty the Illuminated Primacy had with the Citadel."

I brought a hand up to the bridge of my nose, feeling a migraine coming on already, mostly thinking about how I _hated_ these organizational meetings. "Anybody here _actually_ believe that shit?"

The looks and mirthless chuckles everyone gave me were enough to convey their own opinions of the official story.

"Who are the commanders of that Kratocracy fleet?" Idas Kithan asked, her clawed hands folded in thoughtful contemplation.

"The majority of the ships match the fleet of one Breqa ul Wassitok, plus a few Hanar-built cruisers in support," Ayle grunted dismissively. "That slaving _bitch_ is exactly the kind of whore who would take the Ba'Rrakt's offer. Rabble and jack-booted thugs, for the most part."

Cieran suddenly leaned forward, a very thoughtful look on his face. "The Wassitok are slavers... Those are _slaver_ ships, lots of cargo space suited to hauling living beings around."

Ayle looked over at him, her upper eyes narrowed in question.

"Bastard isn't interested in _fucking_ artifacts," I stated, following the ape's mental currents. "He's sent a slave fleet to the Vorcha homeworld to get shiploads of feral Vorcha shipped to… _fucking_ somewhere."

"The Blood Pack usually rounded up the Vorcha in limited numbers at a time, then bred them elsewhere" Ayle replied, "There would be little profit to rounding them up in such numbers, given the general difficulty in guiding such rabble."

"How in the Paragons' names would he hope to control…" Ven began, but then paused a realization crossed the younger Batarian's face. "Oh, _Pillars._ "

"Yeah," I nodded. "A fucker with indoctrination tech now is in the process of gaining a fleet's worth of expendable cannon fodder."

"The Shrike Abyssal is only a relay jump away from the Hourglass Nebula, or even the Valhallan Threshold," Idas thought out loud, "That puts the Kratocracy… dangerously close to Omega itself. Who is Aria's main vassal in that region?"

"ul Yesh's fortress on Zada Ban is the nearest," her mate stated, "But he's made no attempt to secure the Kyzil System."

"Mostly because up until now, why the deeps would anybody _want_ to?" The ape looked about as thrilled to be here as I did, probably a touch more so as this meeting was interrupting his _vacation_ , or whatever he and Voya were doing for fun. "There's nothing out there except abandoned palladium mines."

"The Ba'Rrakt's recognizing of the Eclipse and Jona Sederis throws another factor into navigating this sand-storm," Ayle nodded, "and that is why I've called you all here."

A flick of a button revealed a list that appeared on each of our screens. I glanced down at the rows of names, vaguely aware enough of my own foot tapping to bring it up and across my lap.

"Eight-Zero Demons, the Sandstone Cabal… this is basically our shit-list of the low-life and small-time _fuckers_ who hate us," I mused aloud. "Missing the Tears, but those fucks don't answer to anyone."

"This is the list of the organizations that have most recently accepted the Kratocracy's offer of employment," ul Massa stated slowly. "Each of those names you read there is now a Colonel in the Kratocracy Army, for whatever that is worth." Over a few grunts of amusement from the assembled party, the Batarian looked over at Cieran. "T'Laria, Cie, you will find the name at the bottom of the second page to be the most interesting."

The ape gave her an odd look, but scrolled down to the corresponding page all the same, also reading aloud. "Colonel Earn of the Tridents, Colonel Sabek of the Triumphant Wave, and Colonel Wannatabe…."

His posture went rigid and he looked up at Ayle, who merely nodded. "I even had our contacts on Tortuga confirm."

I flicked over to the page. Then I felt a surge of irritation run up my own spine. "'…of the _fucking_ True Suns.' Goddess, ape, do these assholes just _refuse to die_ or what?"

"More likely bloody Athame doesn't want them either and sends them back from the fucking deeps," Kean answered, then turned his attention back to ul Massa. "Irritating, sure, but do they have the numbers great enough to concern ourselves with?"

"Apparently the few survivors have reorganized on Tortuga and resumed their usual tactics," Ayle shrugged, "Recruiting from the poverty-ridden sectors of the station, mostly among the too young and stupid to know better, and recruiting anyone who dislikes Asari and Krogan... which is a very large pool as always."

"And now these are the _bekwa_ choosing to join up with the new Kratocracy?" Feras looked tired all of the sudden, which I supposed was the natural result of putting the new Lancer teams through their paces. "Doesn't bespeak very highly of this… Ba'Rrakt's intelligence, to hire such gutter trash."

"Unless he still desires to avenge himself upon us," Ven stated, looking pointedly at Cieran. "Or, more specifically, upon _you,_ Director."

Cieran grunted and shifted in his chair, his hand absent-mindedly going to rest on his cane. "You think he's targeting _us_ specifically?"

I held up the datapad I was holding, "I'm thinking if somebody wanted to make a list of 'people who wanted you dead,' it would very _fucking_ similar to this."

Ayle let out a hissing sound through her teeth. "Likely this is related to what happened at Venture."

"If you mean when the ape and this _Ba'Rrakt_ fucker tried their damndest to kill each other? Yeah," I nodded. "Especially if this guy is gathering krogan in the numbers that everybody says he is."

"He claims to be 'Strongest,' after all," Idas nodded. "That would mean doing away with rivals."

"We know at least one krogan survived seeing you kick his ass," I continued, pointing a finger at him. "That doesn't strike me as something he's willing to let slide."

"Decapitation strikes?" Faras asked grimly.

"Surely not that stupid," Ayle shook her head. "Couldn't have gotten where he is if he was."

"I've met the _keshin_ ," Cieran groaned. "If not that stupid, he's that stubborn or moronic, sure."

"Then what is this?" I asked, holding up the datapad. "Fucking _tryouts_? First one to kill Kean gets full sponsorship, kind of thing?"

"Something like along those lines," Cieran shrugged, "I think the fucker believes that if I'm dead, he can make a deal with my successor."

"He would be very much mistaken," Ayle murmured, a thin smile on her face. "I would of course take the appropriate steps in such a circumstance... and it's fairly irrelevant since you're retiring in two weeks."

"Agreed, and thank you," Cieran dipped his head in a theatrical fashion. "Dead me would appreciate it."

"I, for one, vote we don't let it get that far," I stated, holding up a hand. "So what the fuck do we do about it?"

"I believe the first thing is to cease allowing the Hanar preachers on Khar'shan Minor and elsewhere the freedoms they have previously enjoyed," Ayle stated. "They're exactly the kind of zealots that would endeavor to please their new-found Messiah with suicidal imbecility."

"Agreed," Cieran nodded.

"I do not mean to be unnecessarily callous," Ven started, and paused as everyone's attention turned towards him. "But we should reexamine those Drell members we do employ within the Blades. While _up until now_ , I would have never even _questioned_ their allegiance…"

"…their religious icon demanding their cooperation might lead some to have a crisis of conscience," Ayle nodded in agreement.

"Fortunately we don't employ that many of them, except," Cieran paused, and then winced, " _shit_ , isn't there a Drell on the newest Lancer team?"

"Rouvin isn't from the Primacy," I explained, holding up a hand, "And he worships whatever confusing pantheon the Drell have, so we're safe from that direction. My first group of Nightblades investigated that team as part of their training."

"I'll have a talk with him," Idas stated, "Explain we may be killing more of his kind soon."

"He grew up in Nos Irrail," I shrugged, "He'll be fucking _fine_."

"With that covered," Cieran continued, "Scales, that first Nightblade class, they ready for something more adventurous than internal police work?"

I pursed my lips, "You want to send them hunting a few of these assholes?"

He waved a hand at the list in front of him, "Only against our old favorite group of people. They don't need to perform the kills themselves, take a Lancer group or two to act as the muscle."

Ayle exhaled through her teeth, "They may take that as a declaration of war."

"One, not if they can't prove we did it." The ape rolled a shoulder in a shrug, "Two, he's obviously preparing to take the fight to us at some point. Three, I don't see any reason to leave a single True Son breathing in this galaxy. We have a solid information network on Tortuga, send them there to clean house."

Our soon-to-be Director blinked her eyes in sequence, then shrugged in turn. "Valid, Aria would react violently if the Kratocracy attempted to occupy that station, given its location, so there is minimal risk. T'Laria, draw up plans for all five of your Nightblade teams, and two of Cie's Lancer units."

I grunted, "Will fucking do."

She nodded, "Moving on. Ven, do you have that recording that Garaham sent us?"

The kid made a gesture of acknowledgement, something that made me grin as I saw the ape flinch at the Batarian formality. Ven had been with us since we started on Omega, and it still riled Cieran at how polite and deferential he was. He was normally better about relaxing around him, but Ayle appreciated the same formal submissiveness that Cie hated, which always made for fun viewing. Ven's hands lowered to the table, bringing up an odd as fuck looking image.

"A new combat mech?" Idas asked, leaning forward intently, mandibles twitching in confusion.

"According to our source, who is a very talkative and _very drunk_ jellyfish," Cieran shrugged, "That is a _Holy Guardian-class_ Hanar exo-suit."

"You mean there's _actually_ a _fucking_ Hanar _piloting_ that thing?" I asked, wincing as I heard my own voice go shrill. I took a breath, _willing_ my voice back to its normal pitch. "They usually won't come within a hundred miles of actual combat if they can help it."

"Capabilities?" I started as my bondmate's voice came from the doorway. Ghai looked tired, but she came in and slid into the chair next to me. Cieran made a gesture, and Ven cleared his throat.

"This is only a small part of a _very_ choppy combat recording," he explained, his head moving left in an apology. "Our contact has a cousin in the Kratocracy, who sent him this video recorded in their last skirmish, apparently with a gang of smugglers… _injudicious_ enough to attempt to plunder a Prothean ruin on Quana."

The video played forward at half-speed, revealing the massive spider-like figure going forward at what could only be described as a _gallop_ , a volley of light-caliber missiles streaming forward to strike a group of running figures simultaneously.

"Krogan in support?" Idas asked, nodding with her chin at a group of figures in the lower corner of the recording, half off-screen.

"It would appear so, ma'am," Ven nodded. "And here you can see…"

The vid continued until the few hapless fucks who had survived the barrage _suddenly_ came face to face with a half-dozen vibroblade-wielding figures de-cloaking in front of them. Most of them lost important body parts at once, but the rest could be seen throwing down their weapons and holding their arms on their heads in surrender. The mech _rolled_ into a ball, going forward at a ludicrous speed until it was almost right on top of them, and then the krogan caught up to the survivors.

Whoever this informant's cousin was, apparently he or she didn't have the stomach to record whatever the krogan were finding so hilarious off-screen, and the victims were apparently finding so painful.

Ven was also wincing as the recording cut off.

"Large," Ghai croaked next to me. "Fast."

Cieran nodded in answer. "From the recording, they look heavily armed enough, but I didn't see a lot of plating on the thing."

"That doesn't mean much," I grunted. "Fuckers could have tech armor or goddess-damned barriers that deploy if shit gets heavy. We just might not have seen it cause this recording is just of them running down those poor bastards."

"Regardless, it means any potential conflict we may have with this… _Kratocracy_ , could be complicated by these units," Ayle offered cautiously. "Idas, is it possible we could devise a mock-up for our training purposes?"

The female Turian and her mate shared a look, mandibles flaring. Then she shook her head.

"Not sure," she admitted, " _Maybe_ something for the VR arena we're putting together in the New Market district, but not sure what good that would do: we have no idea how to simulate weak-spots or tactical limitations, and any tactics we devise against the simulation might not work on the real thing."

"Would be better than being unprepared entirely," Cieran shrugged. "See if the tech teams can knock something together, if for nothing else, for references' sake."

"Thank you, Ven," Ayle stated pointedly at the younger figure. "Idas, Faras, we will discuss the newest squad's preparations at a later time."

The three figures nodded understandingly, heading out the door, leaving only the four of us in the room.

"Troubling," Ghai offered after a moment of silence. "Imbalance."

"This does throw a sand-storm into the careful balance of power in the Terminus Systems," agreed Ayle, "to say nothing of the galaxy at-large."

She looked over questioningly at Cieran. "There's nothing in your… _other_ memories… that could shed light on the subject? His goals? His tactics?"

"Nothing in the ape's will," I offered. "Went through the damn thing _three_ times."

"Four," Ghai added, also shaking her head. "Nothing."

Cieran closed his eyes slightly, sighed deeply, and also shook his head. "Only Prothean I know of is still buried _somewhere_ on Eden Prime, but this _bosh'tet_ isn't much like him, except in sheer arrogance. Probably a cultural thing."

"Human," Ghai stated next to me. "Strange."

"Not quite Human," Cieran clarified, bringing up an image on his own Omni-Tool. An image of a large, stocky, square-jawed Human appeared on the screen. "This is _Homo Neanderthalensis_ , a species of Human that died out on Earth… roughly thirty thousand years ago."

"And _this_ is an accurate portrayal of the _Ba'Rrakt_?" Ayle asked, to which Kean made another affirmative sound.

"He has longer dreads, and the jaw is _not quite_ so round, but yeah, basically," he replied, shrugging.

"Memories match," Ghai nodded. The two of them had melded in an attempt to try and make sense of the shit that had bled over during the time he and the Supreme Asshole had melded… or whatever the deeps he had done.

"That corresponds to what the Night Whisperers said about Berra's memories," I sighed. "Fucker had _accurate_ memories of what Thessia looked like fifty thousand years ago, or some creepy-ass shit."

"So we can rule out an outright _fraud_ or con-man," Ayle mused. "Pity. Might be worth generating rumors to that effect anyway. Your thoughts of the man? I read the entirely-too-brief report you had Idia write _for_ you; I would like your honest appraisal of his character."

Cie seemed first offended, then embarrassed, then the ape turned thoughtful. "There's very clearly two personalities... and they seemed at odds with both each other and everyone around them."

"Korolev." My lover rasped.

"Kinda, except both of Nikita's personalities were heavily invested in her survival, just differed on how far they would go to preserve it. This… _Herald_ ," he shook his head, "Well, one is just a Highborn asshole, used to ruling and getting his way, but reasonable enough, I guess: the Zymandis contract shows that. The other guy… is just a weapon. A self-destructive, rampaging, rabid varren that only backs down when you put him down."

"I saw the recording," Ayle nodded, "Whatever else he was, he seemed to rely heavily on biotics. Didn't really know how to adapt without them, other than brute force."

"Was enough to knock the titless one on her skinny ass, _and_ beat the ape within an inch of his life," I snorted, delighting in the memory of Voya finally being beaten at her own game. My joy was short-lived, however, as Ghai elbowed me in the ribs, painfully. At my painful exclamation, she merely glared over at me, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, it _was_ ," I insisted, flinching as she made to hit me again.

"Redcliffe," she said eventually, bringing a serious look to Ayle and Kean's amused glances. "Resistance."

That caused everyone to pause. There _were_ still fuckers on that shithole who hated our guts. If this guy _wanted_ to cause us pain, or at the very least, unending annoyance, without openly attacking Sederis, supplying those bastards with arms and armor would be among the easiest ways to do so.

"I think that we all need to tread very carefully in the upcoming weeks," Ayle stated evenly. "We are crossing a desert here, and have no stick to test the sands."

"Voya and I will be at the Illium compound for a few more days at least," Cie shrugged. "Should be safe enough, though it couldn't hurt to lay out a few more security precautions."

"As long as you're on-planet, I'm putting the Compound on Stage-Two," Ayle stated, more than asked, and then turned to leave before Cieran could object. Cieran groaned, and nodded over at us before getting up himself, leaning heavily on his cane.

"Dinner," Ghai rasped after him. "Tomorrow."

"We'll be there," the ape nodded, offering a rare smile in return. "Need us to bring anything?"

"Booze," I suggested, before Ghai could indicated 'No.' "Lots of it."

Cieran's only answer was a throaty chuckle as he walked out, but the slight hesitation before putting weight on his left leg didn't escape either of us as the door closed behind him.

"Right," I sighed, looking over at my bondmate. "Ready to go home, or do we need…?"

"Ethy," Ghai said in a low voice that suddenly was sending all sorts of crazy signals to my brain. "Sleepover."

" _Oh,_ " I managed, suddenly feeling my mouth go dry. "We'll have the house all to ourselves, then. Shall we?"

"Too far."

In a single movement, my bondmate was in my lap, lips pressed against mine in a hungry growl, the sudden shift in weight causing the chair to tip backwards. A blue _hum_ of biotics caught us from crashing to the floor, and now I was feeling her weight on me, and the heat of her body warming me from the inside.

Some part of my brain told me I had a thousand reports to go over, and I still had to deal with my father _placing_ recruits in my Nightblades, and then I had to…

The hungry and intense meld that followed, along with the intoxicating sounds Ghai was making in that moment, caused all of those thoughts to go flying off to whatever deeps they deserved.

Fuck it, that shit could wait.

* * *

 **The Herald**

(Ko'le Seneschal)

 **Location** : Presrop, Century System, Hawking Eta

* * *

"My Lord," Oraka pulsed from his chair, "This decision… will not go over well with the priesthood."

Nakmor chuckled from his place in the circle of holographic figures. "You mean that somewhere, a Hanar is going to _whine and complain_ about this decision? Ancestors forbid."

Oraka curled his two front tentacles in a sign of irritation at the laughter that followed. "They are _murderers_ and _serial killers,_ not soldiers."

In the countless millennia since the Protheans had uplifted the Hanar from their oceans, thousands of different theories and beliefs were put forward as to the Enkindler's exact nature and appearance. The theories were as wildly varied as they were wildly inaccurate, each having a tiny grain of truth at its foundation, and then the rest being pure speculation or fanciful thinking. The Blessed Spirit, for example, believed that the Enkindlers had been incorporeal beings of pure light and energy, uplifting the Hanar for a great and glorious destiny. The Forerunners, on the other hand, believed that the Enkindlers had been the previous evolution of Hanar, and their knowledge and abilities had simply been lost because of their sins.

Even Beast didn't have the heart to tell an entire people that they were result of a half-mad Prothean Magi's unbridled curiosity and morbid sense of humor.

Ironically, of all the Hanar sects and factions, the most accurate had been a death cult that was as tiny as it was illegal. The 'Children of the Under-verse' believed that the 'Blessed Enkindlers' had been uplifted to their place in the galaxy via the deaths of all others, and that only by death and destruction could a race Ascend to the Birthright of the Enkindlers. They had believed that violence rooted out the weak and undeserving, leaving behind only the elite and the strong, who would lead the Hanar forward.

The College of Worship had been horrified at the time, and the cult had been ruthlessly hunted down and stamped out. The cult members captured alive had been imprisoned, and ever since that time, all military leaders had undergone _strict_ background checks and examinations to confirm that they had no connections whatsoever to the movement, whose surviving members I was now releasing from prison. Their only crime, as it had turned out, had been 'being entirely correct.'

"I do not have the time, resources, or inclination to pay for the food, room, and board of the Kratocracy's criminals," I stated evenly. "If they have talents, put them to work, and they can serve their country. Otherwise, they can die honorably in battle, which will _still_ serve their country."

"The penal system is designed to rehabilitate and reeducate the Corrupt and the Heretical…" Oraka began.

"Your 'penal system', as you call it," Beast snarled from our lips, mentally shoving me aside, "Is designed to give maximum comfort and minimal work to rapists, pedophiles, embezzlers, and the undesirables of society. It's a _fucking_ wonder that the entire _galaxy_ hasn't rushed to disobey your laws in order to attain such lavish accommodations!"

More nods and chuckles came from around the group, and Oraka slunk back down in his seat.

"I do believe the Ba'Rrakt has a point, Admiral," Sirena Olm said soothingly. "Hanar who believe that they will attain eternal life by killing the enemies of their country deserve a place on the front line of a penal regiment, not a black cell in a backwater prison."

"In my experience, penal regiments are limited in their effectiveness and their practical applications," Maldus stated from his own chair. "They tend to lack discipline, motivation, or reliability. Or some combination of all three."

"General Nakmor," I asked, raising an eyebrow, "do you believe you can supply them with proper motivation?"

The massive Krogan chuckled and shifted in his seat. "Send them to me, Ba'Rrakt: they will _earn_ their keep and cost."

"Very good," I nodded. "General Maldus: you have word on prospective targets for the next stage of our expansion?"

The Turian stood to his feet, making a gesture as a map of the Spinward Terminus Systems appeared.

"In the aftermath of the Blue Sun and Blood Pack invasions," he began as systems and planets began to be highlighted, "there were a number of corporate-backed colonies in the Terminus Systems who were forced to pull back their own forces and personnel for their own safety. However, several of these colonies still owe considerable debts to those corporations."

"Good luck every getting _that_ back," Sirena Olm scoffed. "Colonies don't really take being abandoned very well."

"Indeed," Maldus stated, giving the Drell woman a sideways glance, "However, we have received an offer of joint partnership from Lorik Qui'in, Administrator of the Noveria Development Corporation. He represents several investors looking to expand into Hegemony markets and Terminus resources. But to do that, they will need to first collect on the debts owed to them by these outer colonies."

"Meaning the _bosh'tet_ wants _us_ to fight his battles for him," Kenn'Oros nar Galaw guffawed. The Quarian had apparently been exiled from the Migrant Fleet, but he had managed to collect a respectable group of raiders, which he had brought with him into the Kratocracy's employ. "And not to mention, most of these colonies have contracted Eclipse, Tears, or Blades protection."

"This is true," Maldus admitted, "But the fact remains that the corporations have a _legal_ claim to those colonies, in lieu of the unpaid debts still owed."

"That will mean nothing if it draws us into open conflict with Sederis or Aria," Breqa ul Wassitok grunted.

"The Scarlett Tears are idiots," Syed shrugged, "Without allies or _krantt_. We can strike against those colonies with near impunity."

"Contact this… Qui'in," I ordered, "Make sure he understands the price of our help: we assist him in reclaiming his corporation's debts, but _we_ keep garrisons at each colony." I brought a hand up to my face, stroking my chin thoughtfully. "There are several human factions in the so-called Alliance who are no friends of Aria or Sederis. We could consider reaching out to them…"

"If you refer to the _fucking_ Corsairs," Kyron ul Culorahk snarled, rising as he spoke, "I will _be dead_ before I enter into any sort of alliance with those sand-blinded sons of…"

"I do not speak of entering into any kind of formal agreement," I stated, anger laced into my words at being interrupted. "I speak only of ensuring that news and intel of targets within Aria's or Sederis' territory, shall we say… falls into the _wrong_ hands?"

The batarian very slowly sat back down, but none of his anger seemed faded.

"If these… _Corsairs_ lash out in their typical blind form against Aria's lackeys," I continued, "she will either be forced to commit ships and fighters in hunting them down, or in bolstering her colony garrisons. And when a _Kratocracy fleet_ announces that they have destroyed and massacred the Corsair fleet that the Hegemony and even the great Aria T'Loak was powerless against…"

"Her weakness will be broadcasted from one side of the Terminus to the other!" Nakmor crowed, pounding a fist into the side of his chair.

Culorhak leaned back, seemingly mollified, if not convinced of the plan. "You intend to draw them in as a _feint_ , luring them to their deaths."

"Offering them a chance to kill criminals seems to be a bait they cannot refuse," I shrugged. "But it would only work if they were fully convinced that the Kratocracy was a safe haven for their ships and soldiers. And when the time is right, and their guard is down…" I deployed both of my interface spikes from my gauntlet. "And any unlucky enough to survive shall be given over to _your_ care, Kyron."

The Batarian was smiling now, and there was a whistling sound of pleasure as he drew in a breath through clenched teeth.

"My lord?" I turned to see Tallaxis entering the chamber, his floating body bobbing low in apology for the interruption. "The delegation from Omega is here."

I turned back to the gathered military leaders. "Commanders, we will pick this up at another time. May your foes be strong enough to keep you sharp."

The various commanders made their customary salutes or nods of respect, and then the connection ended, leaving me alone in the Communications Center. I gave Tallaxis my full attention.

"By the lack of acute tension in your aura," I mused, "I would suppose that the Black Queen did _not_ elect to answer our invitation in person."

"No, Exalted One," Tallaxis answered, "To the surprise of no one, Aria T'Loak has sent one of her… hmmm… _daughters_ to represent her interests: Oran T'Loak."

I shrugged, and then furrowed my brows in thought as my eidetic memory recalled the pertinent details of the named Asari. "How many ships, and how many guards?"

"Three light cruisers," the yeoman answered, "Each sending a shuttle inbound for the landing zone."

"Wise," I nodded appreciatively. "Show her into the Green Room, and make sure every comfort is made available to them."

"Your Will, Herald."

 **So… the Black Queen's cowardice is revealed,** Beast mused as I made my way into our personal chambers just next door.

 ** _Not cowardice,_** I corrected Beast, **_Just prudence. Aria is a Great Warlord of the Terminus. In her eyes we are nothing more than a military dictator of a small Citadel-Space nation, hardly worth personally leaving her fortress to meet._**

 **Sending her back her daughter's head might cause her to take us more seriously.**

 ** _Beast,_** I sighed mentally, as I snaked an arm into the robes laid out by our attendants, **_Either be actually helpful for once, or else be silent. Do not fuck this meeting up for us._**

 **We look like an idiot,** Beast offered pettily as he faded into the mental background.

I took a glance in the mirror on the far wall. The robes were, thankfully, muted from the ostentatious colors that the Hanar had attempted to drape us in before, but more importantly, there were inlaid shield nodes and barrier generators in the folds and seams of the wide-sleeved robe. I folded the pistol from our hip and slid it into the concealed pocket, nodding at the general effect.

 ** _Jealousy does not become you,_** I snarked back, as the door opened and we fell in stride with the eight Drell Guardians. We proceeded down the hall which opened into a larger courtyard area, where three parked shuttles sat, emblazoned with the sigil of the Terminus' Black Queen. Crossing over, we entered the opposite building, and up a flight of stairs to the second floor. There, eighteen Asari were lined up, three of them in ornate robes.

 ** _Decoys,_** I thought approvingly. **_One for each shuttle_.**

Beast grumbled at that, **Of course the Asari would take pride in deception.**

I stood there as the three robed beings nodded greetings toward me. "Oran T'Loak," I stated, not making eye contact with any of them.

One of the black-armored figures reached back, unclasping a helmet and passing it to one of the attendants.

"Lord Ba'Rrakt," Oran T'Loak stated in greeting. "I remember when this was a mining station: My, my, but I must say, you've redecorated nicely."

Oran T'Loak apparently did not inherit any of her father's sharp physical features, which tended to give credence to some of my advisor's theories of an adopted cousin, or perhaps some bastard child recognized after the death of Aria's eldest daughter Liselle during the war of Ganar Yulaz.

"I can't take all the credit, Madam T'Loak," I shrugged, smiling at the clever tactic, and adopting what I hoped was a nonchalant stance. "This used to be a compound of a biotic cult, they tell me, before we claimed the planet. And please, my _friends_ call me simply, Ko'le."

"Now that you have the planet... Ko'le," the younger Asari mused, looking around the room, "What exactly do you plan on doing with it?"

I gave her a look that communicated what I thought of such blatant information-seeking, to which she responded with holding up a hand in wordless apology. "They also tell me that your father is naught but a cruel and petty thug, drunk on power and the blood of the innocent."

Oran merely shrugged at the list of insults directed at her sire. "Fools always have petty little opinions... but what do _you_ think, Ko'le?"

"I think that 'cruel' is a word invented by those too weak or unwilling to fight for themselves. If a slave is not willing to serve the master, it should be willing to kill the master, or die in the attempt."

A curious look came across the Asari, and she shifted to face me more completely. "It would seem we both understand power."

"We both wield it," I shrugged. "Our followers fear it. But such a thing is a double-edged sword. I was lackey to the throne that ruled this galaxy, once. I was an errand boy, a slave, and a plaything of beings mightier than I."

"And now you will rule in your own name," the Asari stated simply, still not betraying any emotion in her stance or words.

"I am _done_ practicing and fulfilling the will of others," Beast snarled, seizing control for a moment. "I and no other shall choose my fate, and my time and place to die."

"Is that why you've brought your force into the Terminus Systems then?" Oran asked, and for the first time, a flicker of dangerous purpose came into her eyes. "You seek glorious _battle_ and _death_ … Ba'Rrakt?"

Beast was surging forward to meet the challenge in her words, but I managed to hold back all except an almost predatory growl. I closed my eyes and focused my thoughts before answering. "I... have expanded the Kratocracy for one reason and one reason alone: The true Enemy is coming. To defeat them, I need more ships, more soldiers, and that means more territory to support them."

I opened my eyes, seeing her regarding me with a curious look. When she said nothing, however, I continued. "That also means that, ere the end, I will need you and you will need me. It was for that purpose that I extended the invitation to your father: so she could come here _in person_ , and we could determine the truth of the legends that surround us. So we could see if one another truly is the monster that the rest of galaxy claims that we are."

Oran nodded thoughtfully, and put her hands behind her on the rail.

"Well, I've never been mistaken for my father, but _I'm_ the one who's here in her stead," she answered honestly, gesturing down her armored-yet-lithe frame. "And what do you see?"

The gesture brought more attention to her chest, and there was a sultry purr in the words, and in the aura she projected _very strongly_. Beast, as usual, was offering a _thousand_ suggestions, most of them of a carnal or brutal nature, all of them equally unhelpful in the moment.

"If I may?" I asked, extending a hand forward, palm outward.

She looked at the hand, and then back to me, suspicion now clearly stamped on the face where seduction had been only a moment before.

"Mistress…" one of her black-armored guards hissed behind us, but she only held up a hand of her own in answer, silencing whatever objections had been nearly voiced. Then a resolute look came across Oran T'Loak's face, and for the first time, a flicker of something else... something dangerous and proud came across her aura, even as her lips took the form of a reckless smile and her armored glove _seized_ my hand in her own.

The Mind-Share seemed to strike her off-guard, as she obviously expected the more familiar Meld of her people, but she responded with her own mental barriers coming up. It was clear that I would not examining her thoughts or her memories without a great deal of effort, and I could _feel_ the subtle tendrils of her own snaking forward, searching for pertinent information, even as she attempted to focus my attention on… _extraordinarily sensual_ images of her own. Mentally batting aside such attempted distractions, the mental noise surrounding us _snapped_ into focus, and we were both sitting on a…. riverbank, beside a cool stream.

"Impressive," I admitted, looking around the mentally-constructed 'Safe Zone'. "Someone has taught you clarity."

"The T'Laria... uncouth little bitches, but they are very skilled at these arts. You're not so bad yourself," Oran's stated, "For a human, anyway."

Suddenly, the clothes we were wearing in this mental projection faded away, and we were both _very_ naked. I didn't expressly desire her, or prefer the Asari form to the bodies of Human females... but the combination of her nudity and her projections of pleasure still drew my eyes down, over her blue skin and sculpted flesh. Part of me, and a greater part of Beast, became far more difficult to hold back.

It had been, after all, such a very long time since I had...

"Do you like what you see, _Ba'Rrakt_?" Oran teased, her voice adopting a lilt once again as she noted my reaction to her body. "Is this what you wished to learn?"

"I have learned that you are a worthy warrior, who has carved her way to the top via a ladder of her enemies' bones and her rivals' bodies. This is the right and true way of the world," I offered, trying to lace as much _Reassurance_ and _Safety_ into my words as possible.

She leaned back, smiling, evidently content with the gentle teasing and talk. "What else?"

"Power is one half of the Universe with Will and Purpose," I continued, "And the other half… are only chattel to be lead; to be slaughtered in their turn once they have served their purpose, or expended their strength. In this… we have more in common that you might think. It is possible that…."

Suddenly _Pain_ slammed into my head and being, and both of us were thrust into a cold and dark room, surrounded by needles, wires, tubes, and surgical implements. Both of us were in full armor now as our mental defenses kicked in.

"What…" I started, only to begin mentally kicking myself. The open nudity, the sensual pose to her, even the conversation itself had been another distraction as she searched the back of my mind for more information, and I hadn't even _felt_ her rooting around within my own brain. And now… she had found something: a memory long-buried and locked away. Something...

 **"...she was not meant to find!"**

The Asari whirled at the sound of the third voice, beholding the scarred and broken body of Beast as he stepped forward into the light. A twisted and deformed arm had been bio-welded to his body, and there were tubes and wires protruding from several places along his back.

 **"FRIEND OR FOE?"** The scarred body took a step forward, his deep voice bellowing his challenge. " **WHICH ARE YOU, ASARI?!"**

 ** _"NO!"_** I snarled in turn, recoiling my physical hand to sever the Share. Opening my eyes, I could see T'Loak with her eyes closed, breathing hard, but holding up a hand towards her guards. Glancing that direction, a room filled with _very armed_ and _very agitated_ beings came into view. Vibroblades _hummed_ , weapons whined as they entered their power-up sequences, and two of the Asari even clutched what seemed to be swords laced with so much eezo that they burned with a brilliant blue light.

"Stand down," Oran ordered, hardness and authority in her tone. "Stand down!"

I sent out a mental order to the Drell Guardians around me to do the same. The moment passed, and the tension in the room… _eased_ , if only a little.

"Please," I stated taking several ragged breaths to attempt to calm myself, gesturing to the furniture inside the room, "Sit."

Beast was still very much on-edge from the mental encounter. **If the bitch so much as twitches, I swear by the Father I'll…**

 ** _Shut. Up. Beast._**

While I was less than pleased at her discovery of that memory, I was angrier at myself than I was at her. I had assumed, mistakenly, that she was simply another primitive whose mind I would be able to read more easily in the Mind-Share. Instead I had been met with a mental predator, who had easily batted aside my efforts even as she took my plan as her own.

Even as Beast growled in anger, 'the bitch' merely moved back into the room proper, taking a seat on the expansive couch. I slowly moved sideways, _standing_ pointedly behind one of the chairs opposite.

"Leave us," Oran stated to her guards. They seemed to hesitate for a moment, but obeyed the order nonetheless. Her guards made various salutes, and slowly left the room. Sending a pulse via the Mind-Share, my own guards did the same, blinking into active camouflage first. After a moment, there were only the two of us. Beast was tensing for some sort of assassination attempt, preparing flickers upon flickers of pre-barriers that could be materialized in less than seconds at the first sign of hostility.

"Forgive me," Oran stated slowly. "I… touched a painful memory during our… Meld. For that, you have my sincere apology. That was not my place. I had intended only to see what kind of being you truly are."

I blinked in surprise, and then slowly nodded in reply.

"My… birth," I stated in answer to her unspoken question. "It was…not a painless process."

Oran leaned forward, and for the first time, it seemed that the careful mask fell, if only a moment, revealing _pity_ and _sorrow_.

"I'm very sorry," she said slowly. "That… must have been… difficult."

I scoffed at the massive understatement, and very slowly in turn _,_ I sunk into the chair opposite her.

"We have both overcame the challenges life presented us," I answered, shrugging. "And here we are, sizing one another up to see if we are to be friends or foes."

"So the… _other you_ stated," Oran nodded, and the mask of careful indifference was replaced. "Dangerous."

"I was built as a weapon, yes," I admitted, "But I became _more_. I became… _Me._ And we need not be enemies, so long as the doom of the Protheans still exists."

I leaned forward slowly, bringing our faces very close. "So long as one Reaper remains alive, you will have no war with me, or with mine, and I will make no move against you. Or your father."

Holding up a hand, I deployed a spike from my armor. To her credit, she didn't even flinch as I drew it across my palm, drawing red blood, letting it well up between my fingers as I made a fist. "This is my vow, and my word given."

Oran T'Loak regarded me with a look she had not given me before. " _Which_ you, and _whose_ word?"

I blinked slowly, and then nodded. " _Mine_."

The look on her face showed that she was less than impressed with my answer. "My father will hesitate at making any kind of agreement or alliance with someone… in your condition," she stated tactfully. "Were you in my place, would you recommend to _your_ superiors to trust the word of such a one?"

Her voice was low, but there was a _playful_ tone that somehow prevented Beast from taking offense at such a statement.

"I would have my reservations," I admitted. "But that would depend on how well I understood the conflict that was to come, and whether I could afford to turn away allies in such a war."

"And after the war?" she asked, "What happens then?"

"Well now," Beast answered, a grin spreading across his face, "that will be interesting, won't it?" I felt my body give an involuntary shudder as I shoved Beast back into the background of my mind. "But first, we must survive and _win_ a war that the full might of the Prothean Empire was unable to overcome. I have fought these monsters before. I have the _knowledge_ on _how_ to kill them. What I _don't_ have," I admitted, "is the numbers to withstand their Armadas."

"That's where _we_ come in," Oran nodded, following the beam of thought I was attempting to shine. "That's why you _need_ us."

I merely closed my eyes slowly, partially in acknowledgement, and partially to prevent Beast from _strangling_ any primitive who was insinuating that we 'needed their help.' **_If she was so primitive, you would have not been revealed._**

Beast merely growled in reply, tacitly admitting the point but not being happy about it. For her part, Oran simply leaned back in her chair, and the half-amused smile was on her face again.

"This is not a thing to be determined in a single afternoon," she was saying, and the carefree lilt was back in her tone. "Such a thing requires careful deliberation, discussion… and perhaps, dinner?"

I found myself grinning back at her before I could stop myself, the memory of her flesh returning quickly to my mind, along with the impression of her power.

"I… would like that," I answered, finding to my surprise that I actually meant it.

 **And after dinner? Perhaps…**

 ** _Oh, Mother Above, Beast… shut up._**

* * *

 **Author's Note: And so concludes this little collaboration between Katkiller-V and myself! What began as a fun thought-experiment turned into a few written paragraphs, back and forth, and then blossomed into the first couple chapters of this story! **

**Reminder: this IS strictly AU for both universes, but it's been tonnes of fun to see how Ko'le and Kean react to each other, and the corresponding blows and bullets. ;)**

 **As always, please feel free to leave your thoughts/comments/constructive criticisms below! It really makes my day to see you all's unique perspectives and insights!**

 **EE-RAH!**

 **-Tusken1602**

* * *

Reviewer Responses:

BJ Hanssen, seabo76 - Well, in Ko'le's defense, he doesn't have Kevin's memories as to WHY that would be a bad idea, and the equivalent knowledge of Javik in ME:3. It therefore wouldn't be a HUGE leap of logic to suppose that if the krogan have gotten larger and become formidable warriors in this cycle, that the Yahg would have done the same, and might be a resource worth exploiting.

As for continuing the story, we've purposefully left the story open so we could potentially come back to it if enough ideas or interest was generated, either in the duo's adventures in the Reaper War, or even as to the post-Reaper War events in the Terminus Systems, whether that be the Aria/Sederis showdown, or perhaps Ko'le's serious attempt to re-forge the Emerald Throne and the Prothean Empire (with maybe a re-awakened Javik beside him? Who knows?).


End file.
